


An Heir Apparent

by Isabella2004



Category: Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29677644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabella2004/pseuds/Isabella2004
Summary: With the bank threatening to foreclose on her father's farm, Rebecca McKendrick returns to Colorado Springs from Boston to save the home she loves. But her actions lead to an unpredicted outcome involving Preston Lodge, the man threatening to take away her past.
Relationships: Preston A. Lodge III/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A story I started a long time ago!

**September 1870**

It had been so long since she had been in Colorado Springs that she wondered if she would recognise it when she saw it. Indeed, the journey there was altogether different. Eight years earlier, when she had left the town, it had been by rickety stagecoach. Now, she was arriving back on a train. With a wry smile, she wondered what her father would say if he were alive. He had never believed in the train coming to Colorado Springs, writing it off as a new-fangled invention that would never catch on. How surprised he would be to see his own daughter arriving back to town in one.

She lifted her book again and read another few pages before dropping it back onto her lap. For some reason, she hadn't been able to concentrate since they had left Denver, preferring to gaze out at the lush fall scenery. The leaves on the trees were turning, the sun shone low and dazzling and the air had a cold tinge to it.

"Only in Colorado," she murmured to herself. As she rested her head back against the seat, she thought about the letter she had received a few weeks earlier in Boston and at how incensed, and even frightened, she had felt reading the words.

_Dear Miss McKendrick_

_It has come to our attention that the repayments on your father's loan have recently ceased. As you will be aware, your father took out a substantial loan with us a number of years ago to help with the maintenance of your family farm. The loan was due to be repaid at a monthly sum of thirty dollars and, until three months ago, this repayment was being adequately met. Unfortunately, it appears that circumstances have since changed. You will understand that, as a business, we require to collect from our debtors. We therefore require immediate payment of all outstanding sums due on your father's loan along with the requisite interest._

_Of course, should you wish to discuss this matter, you will be aware that we have recently opened a branch of the bank in Colorado Springs. Should this be more convenient, please do not hesitate to make an appointment._

_Kindest regards_

_Preston A. Lodge III_

_President, National Trust Bank_

She shook her head at the thought of it. In the forty years that he had been a farmer in Colorado Springs, Angus McKendrick had never once defaulted on a payment. She knew he would be turning in his grave if he knew what was happening now. She hadn't known that the loan wasn't being repaid and that thought alone made her angrier with herself. She had been away too long, had shunned the responsibilities which were now hers and had apparently left the family business in the hands of someone clearly incapable of looking after it.

After her father died, she had left the running of the farm in the capable hands, or so she thought, of Henry Elder. He had been her father's right hand man for many years and she had grown up calling him Uncle Henry. They had corresponded for some time after her father died, but his letters had suddenly stopped. She had obviously been too wrapped up with her life in Boston to realise that something was very wrong.

"Next stop Colorado Springs!"

The shouting of the guard brought her back to reality. She got up from her seat and lifting her bag, made her way towards the door. She wanted to see what had become of the town as she pulled into it. Pushing down the window, she stuck her head out into the cold breeze and, holding onto her hat, watched as the train station grew closer. She could hardly believe the transformation as the train pulled to a slow halt. People were hurrying about everywhere. It was almost as if it was a different town.

As she climbed down from the carriage and looked around, she suddenly caught sight of a familiar face dealing with some packages. "Horace! Horace Bing!" Horace looked up at the sound of his name and regarded her with some confusion. "You haven't changed a bit!"

"I'm sorry Miss…" Horace replied, stuttering for words, "have we been introduced?"

"You don't remember me?" she asked. He shook his head, "Bing, bing, bing goes the bell?"

Recognition suddenly dawned in his eyes, "Rebecca? Rebecca McKendrick!" He stepped forward and hugged her, "Why, you're all grown up! I haven't seen you since…since…"

"It's been a long time," Rebecca laughed, "eight years to be precise!"

"How old are you now?"

"Now, Horace, you know better than to ask a lady her age." She watch him redden, "but seeing as it's you…I'll be twenty five this winter."

"Gosh…" Horace admired her, "You sure got pretty too." It was Rebecca's turn to blush. "Oh!" He turned to look behind him. "This is my wife, Myra, and our daughter Samantha."

"Myra," Rebecca extended her hand, "it's so nice to meet you."

"And you," Myra replied. "You come a long way?"

"Boston."

"Oh…" Myra laughed, "Another one! We sure seem to attract people from Boston to this town!"

"Our local doctor, Doctor Mike, she's from Boston," Horace said.

"A lady doctor?" Rebecca raised her eyebrows, "that's very forward thinking for Colorado Springs."

"She's a great doctor," Myra enthused, "You'll really like her."

"I'm sure I will."

"Oh, and Preston," Horace added, his tone less enthusiastic, "he's from Boston too."

"That wouldn't happen to be Preston A Lodge III, would it?" Rebecca asked. Horace nodded. "I thought as much. I'm afraid my visit here isn't exactly for pleasure." She sighed, "You'll be aware that my father died last year?"

"Yes," Horace nodded, "We were real sorry to hear it too. Your pa was a great man. He was always so kind to me."

"Thank you. It seems however that much of his kindness and trust was misplaced. The person I entrusted the farm to hasn't exactly been doing their best to keep it going."

Horace and Myra exchanged looks. "You mean Henry Elder?" the latter asked.

Rebecca nodded, "Do you know what's been happening?"

"He took off about three months ago," Horace said, "not a word to anyone."

"What about the farm?"

"'Fraid I don't know. No-one's been up that way as far as I know."

Rebecca sighed. "Well, the bank is threatening to foreclose. I have to go and speak with Mr Lodge about an extension."

"Good luck," Horace replied bitterly. Myra nudged him. "I'll…make sure your luggage is all set up on a wagon to take you out to the farm later."

"Thank you Horace," Rebecca patted his arm, "Can you direct me towards the bank?"

"You can't miss it," he replied, "just across from the clinic."

Rebecca made her excuses and started to walk from the station up towards the centre of town. As she did, she looked around in wonder at all the changes that had been made. There was so much new business, new life, that she was beginning to wonder if it was the same place. As she neared the main square, she caught sight of the sign above what used to be Charlotte Cooper's boarding house.

"Michaela Quinn," she murmured to herself. "Interesting." Then, she turned and found herself face to face with the bank, the large clock bored into the front wall informing her that it was after ten o'clock. She paused, unsure if she was ready for what would undoubtedly be a battle. Then she remembered precisely whose daughter she was so, holding her head high, she made her way inside.

Glancing around, she was surprised at how small it was, so different from the main headquarters of the bank in Boston. She had visited it a few times to deal with her savings and had always marvelled at its vastness. This was quite different and yet, so suited to a town such as Colorado Springs. The bank was empty except for a man sat at a desk in the back, looking through some paperwork. He appeared to be unaware of her presence until she coughed conspicuously. He looked up, got up from the desk and came forward.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, you probably can," Rebecca replied, "I'd like to speak with Mr Preston Lodge please."

"Well, you are indeed speaking with him," he replied with a smile, "is there something in particular I can help you with?"

Rebecca reached into her purse and took out the letter. "I'm assuming it was you who sent me this."

He took it from her and read it quickly, "Ah yes, Miss McKendrick. Won't you come through?" He gestured for her to come through and take a seat at his desk which she duly did. He sat down opposite her. "I'm sorry if the letter came as a surprise to you…"

"Yes, it did," she interrupted. "It also came as something of a disappointment."

"Disappointment?"

"My father lived in this town all his life. Banked with this bank all his life and never once did he miss a repayment on his loan. It was always sent to Boston right on time."

"I can appreciate that, but you see…"

"My father passed away last year."

"I know," Preston said, "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"I'm not interested in your pity, Mr Lodge," Rebecca said, feeling renewed confidence with each word, "I'm more interested in what makes you think you can write me a letter like this after the loyal custom my family has provided your bank with."

"Is that where you're from?" Preston seized on the nugget of information. "I assure you that if you had been living in town, I would have noticed you."

Rebecca thought she might well bring back up her breakfast at his pathetic attempts at flattery. "If you're trying to flatter me, Mr Lodge, it won't work. I may have travelled from Boston, where I have been living for the last eight years, but I was born and bred right here in Colorado Springs. My family is well known here. I regret that I clearly haven't been kept fully informed of the circumstances surrounding my father's farm. I understand that the man I left in charge left town quite suddenly. He was in charge of everything, including the repayments of the loan. He was a loyal and trusted friend." Rebecca looked down, still somewhat unable to believe that Uncle Henry had let her down so badly. "At least I thought he was."

When she looked up again, she saw Preston looking at her sympathetically. "What is it you're asking me for?"

Rebecca looked him in the eye, "I can't afford to repay the full loan as you are requesting. Not right now. I have...some money tied up in the bank in Boston which is very difficult to access at short notice."

"So, you're looking for an extension on the loan?"

"Yes."

"Miss McKendrick…you'll be aware that it's not standard practice…"

"I appreciate that."

"We're a business here. We have to make money, otherwise what is the point? If your father's farm is failing…"

"I don't intend to let that happen," Rebecca said, her eyes dark with anger. "I'll run it myself if I have to." Preston started to laugh before he could seemingly stop himself. "I'm sorry, but what is so amusing?"

"I apologise," he said, "you may have been born here Miss McKendrick but you've clearly been educated to a standard far greater than that of running a farm."

"That farm was my home for many years. It was my father's home. I don't intend to just let it go to rack and ruin." Rebecca got to her feet, suddenly all too aware that she was close to tears. "Now, are you prepared to help me, or not?"

Preston stood up and surveyed her. "What are you offering?"

"Give me two months to get things back on track. Two months in which to get back up to date with the loan repayments."

"And if you can't?"

"Then you can have the farm and we'll part with no bad feelings." Rebecca held out her hand and realised it was shaking, "Do we have a deal?"

If he saw this, Preston chose to ignore it and shook her proffered hand, "All right. Two months. But that's it. There will be no further extensions."

"I understand," Rebecca replied, relief flooding through her at this temporary lifeline. "Thank you Mr Lodge."

"Please," he said, "call me Preston." Caught slightly unawares under his gaze, Rebecca felt herself redden. "May I call you Rebecca?"

She was about to say yes when something inside her made her stop. She barely knew this man. He was holding the keys to her future in his hands and yet wished to know her on a level that seemed inappropriately intimate. It wasn't the done thing. She drew herself up and fixed him with her most magnanimous look. "No Mr Lodge," she replied, "you may not."


	2. Chapter 2

Rebecca left the bank feeling elated. It had been easier than she had thought to persuade Preston to grant her extra time on the loan. Perhaps she had been mistaken about him. Now all she had to do was figure out how she was going to bring the farm back from the brink. As she stepped down onto the street, her elation slowly began to turn into panic. Two months…two months! How on earth was she going to turn the fortunes of the farm around in two months? It would be an impossible task. She should have asked for more time, she should have…her lack of knowledge about finances hit her squarely in the face. It was going to take a lot more than bravado and the knowledge that she was Angus McKendrick's daughter to turn this around.

As she started to walk back towards the station to pick up her luggage, she was so lost in thought that she wasn't looking where she was going and bumped into someone hurrying in the opposite direction.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at a man not much younger than herself. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No it was my fault," he replied, "You all right?"

"I'm fine," Rebecca smiled, "really."

He squinted at her, "Don't I know you?"

"Probably," she replied, "I'm from Colorado Springs originally." She glanced at the badge on his jacket, "Well, you're obviously the sheriff."

"Yes ma'am. Matthew Cooper."

Rebecca's eyes widened, "Charlotte's Matthew?"

"That's right."

"Oh my Lord you've grown so much!" she laughed, "the last time I saw you, you were a skinny, shy boy. Now look at you!

Light dawned in Matthew's eyes, "Rebecca McKendrick!"

"The very same!" Rebecca replied, allowing him to hug her. "It's so good to see so many old friends! I was half afraid you would all have fled to Denver."

"No way," Matthew replied, "Colorado Springs'll do me just fine."

"I was so sorry about your mother," Rebecca said, putting her hand on his arm. "That must have been so hard for you. And for Colleen and Brian."

Matthew looked away, "Well, you know what it's like."

"Yes, I'm afraid I do." She glanced behind her at the bank, "I've just met Mr Lodge."

"Preston? He was your first stop when you got back in town?"

"Out of necessity I'm afraid," she made a face, "He wanted full repayment of my father's loan or he was going to take the farm."

"You're kidding?" Matthew looked outraged.

"I wish I was," Rebecca replied, "thankfully I've managed to hold him off for two months to give me some time to get things sorted. I'm heading up to the farm now."

"Let me come with you," Matthew said hurriedly.

"Oh there's no need. I may have been away for eight years but I still remember how to drive a wagon!"

"I…still think I should come with you."

"Why?" Rebecca looked at him hard, "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing," Matthew replied, "but just…let me come with you."

Rebecca shrugged, "All right. It'll be nice to have some company on the drive." They made their way back through town chatting about old times and about how much the town had changed. When they reached the station, Horace came hurrying out of the office.

"Got your wagon for you Rebecca," he said, gesturing to where a wagon was standing waiting with her luggage on board.

"Thank you Horace," Rebecca said, "Matthew's going to come up to the farm with me."

"That's a good idea," Horace said. "I'm sure it's not as bad as they say."

Rebecca, who had been walking towards the wagon, stopped suddenly and turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Horace and Matthew exchanged looks. "Oh…nothing," the former replied, "it's just that…well…it's been a long time since you were up there…"

"Yes? And?"

"Well…"Horace stuttered, "…have a nice drive." With that, he dived back into the office.

Rebecca looked at Matthew who shrugged and then climbed into the wagon. "I'll drive," she said, grabbing the reins from him. "I'm going to have to be self-sufficient after all."

"It's all yours," Matthew said. Clicking her tongue, Rebecca moved the horse forward and they made their way away from the station and out into the outskirts of the town where the farm was located.

"So," she said, "how are you finding being Sheriff?"

"It's all right so far," Matthew replied. "Had to do some things I don't like, like hanging a man." Rebecca looked at him horrified, "It's part of my job."

"Well, there's being Sheriff and then there's being a hangman."

"Yeah well, he deserved it. Raped a young girl and murdered an old man."

Rebecca shuddered, "Well, I'm glad that you were around to take care of business."

"Whole town wanted him lynched. It got done right though."

Rebecca grinned at him, "I'm proud of you, Matthew. I always knew you'd make something of yourself."

He blushed and looked away, "You know, I had the biggest crush on you when I was younger."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, I wasn't going to tell you," he said, "Besides, I was only twelve."

"With a glorious mop of blond hair if I recall correctly."

"You should see Brian!"

They laughed as Rebecca took the wagon round a corner and came face to face with the farm. Her laughter suddenly ceased. "Oh…my Lord…" She pushed the horse forward faster and then brought him to a sharp halt. "Oh my…" she sat and looked at it in horror. "Just…just look at it!"

The entire building looked as though it was about to fall down. Windows were broken, window frames cracked, slates missing from the roof, weeds growing all over the garden and surrounding land. The barns at the back of the property looked equally as empty and abandoned as the main house and the corral gate swung ominously in the autumn breeze.

"I'm sure it ain't as bad as it looked," Matthew said, jumping down.

"But it's…I mean it's…" Rebecca was lost for words. "What on earth happened here?" she looked at him. "Do you know what happened to Henry?"

"Not really. We hardly ever saw him in town and then one day, he was just gone."

Rebecca sighed, "Two months is never going to fix this! I dread to think what the place looks like inside."

"You got keys?" She nodded and stood up. As she did, he saw her wobble and sit back down again suddenly. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Rebecca said, "I just…felt a bit faint."

"No wonder," Matthew held out his hand and, when she had regained her balance, Rebecca stood up again and allowed him to help her down. Once on the ground, she leant back against the wagon. "You sure you're ok?"

"Yes," she said, waving him away. "Can you…can you check on the barns please? I'll go into the house."

"Sure," he said, casting her a final glance before hurrying around to the back of the property.

Rebecca let out a long breath and placed her hand on her chest. Her heart was racing and she counted slowly to ten, waiting for it to return to normal. She again cursed Henry, not only for leaving the farm in the state it was clearly in, but for also bringing on one of her turns. Reaching into her bag, she lifted out the set of keys and walked forwards to the front door. As it turned out, she didn't need them. The door swung easily open and a strong smell of damp hit her as she stepped inside. The interior, while instantly recognisable, was forlorn and shabby. The kitchen and living areas where she had spent many happy hours playing while her father worked outside were shadows of their former selves. As she walked slowly through the various rooms, she felt a profound sense of sadness and, indeed, anger. Anger not just at Henry, but at herself for staying away so long.

"Not much happening outside," Matthew said, coming in behind her.

"I should have come back," she murmured. "I shouldn't have stayed away."

"You can't think like that. You didn't know this was going to happen."

"What kind of daughter doesn't come home when her father's dying?" she turned to look at him. "I didn't even say a proper goodbye. Maybe if I'd been here I could have prevented this." She groaned. "Mr Lodge is no doubt _loving_ the fact that I lowered myself to beg for two months grace. He probably knows _exactly_ what sort of a state this place is in and is no doubt laughing himself silly at how stupid I am!"

"Well, you can't stay here."

"I have to," she replied, "I've nowhere else."

"There's the boarding house in town," he said, "it's nice. Real quiet." She didn't reply. "Look, why don't I take you back into town? We could have lunch at Grace's and you could meet Doctor Mike. She and Sully will know what to do about starting work on this place. I'm sure folks in town will help you get it back up and running."

"It doesn't look like I have much choice," she replied wearily, "does it?"

XXXX

"Little Rebecca McKendrick," Hank Lawson drawled a few hours later.

"You haven't changed a bit, Hank," Rebecca said.

"You certainly have," he remarked, looking her up and down. "Ya know, if ya can't git the farm back on track, there's always a job for ya at the saloon."

"I'll bear that in mind," she replied mildly. At the moment, being offered a position as a whore seemed far less worrying that the task she knew lay ahead.

"Fact is, I'm lookin' to expand," he said.

"Really?"

"Gonna build me a hotel. Best hotel in town." He grinned at her.

"Only hotel in town."

"Aw, Hank's been talkin' bout this for months," Loren Bray remarked from his seat next to Rebecca, "Fact is, I'll be dead before he gits anywhere close to buildin' it!"

"Have a little faith, Loren," Hank replied. "Ain't that right, Rev?"

"I suppose so," Rev Johnston said. "It's unfortunate, Rebecca, that your first few hours back in town haven't been particularly pleasant."

"Havin' to meet with Preston'd turn even the strongest stomach," Hank said.

"I was referring to the farm, Hank."

"Both experiences haven't exactly been pleasant," Rebecca replied, swirling the remains of her tea around her cup. "Not quite the homecoming I was hoping for."

"Doctor Mike!" Matthew shouting in her ear made her jump. "Over here!" Rebecca looked up and saw a woman making her way over to their table. "Doctor Mike, this is Rebecca McKendrick. She just got back into town today."

"Pleased to meet you," Michaela said, extending her hand. She paused. "Are you Angus McKendrick's daughter?"

"Yes," Rebecca replied.

"I treated your father shortly before he died," Michaela said, "he spoke very highly about you. He was very proud about your studying in Boston."

Rebecca made a face. "Perhaps if I have stayed in Colorado Springs…" she left the sentence hanging.

"You were studying English?" Michaela asked. Rebecca nodded. "You should speak to Dorothy Jennings. She's the editor of our local newspaper, The Gazette. Who knows, you might be able to do some writing."

"I think my time will be well spent fixing up the farm," Rebecca replied gloomily.

"I told you," Matthew said, "Folks'll help you out."

"I don't want charity, Matthew," she replied, "I wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to prove something to myself."

"Like what?" Rev Johnston asked.

"I don't know. That I hadn't completed shunned my birthright? That I'm my father's daughter? I know it sounds silly…"

"Not at all," Michaela said, "it sounds very admirable."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied gratefully.

"Oh Lord," Rev Johnston said, "it's Preston. He's going to start going on about the loan for the church repairs again." He put his napkin down and tried to hurry away from the table, but Preston was too quick.

"Reverend," he said, touching his hat, "ladies. I was hoping to have a quick word with you, Reverend."

"Well, I was just on my way to…"

"This won't take long. It's about the church." Preston paused suddenly. "Miss McKendrick!" Rebecca looked up from where she had been trying to blend into the background. "It's good to see you getting yourself reacquainted with the locals." He smiled at her. "Have you been up to the farm yet?"

"Yes," she replied, through gritted teeth.

"Splendid. I think it's wonderful that you've come back to save your family home. Very admirable, I must say."

"I'm sure you must," she muttered under her breath. "Matthew," she said, "Why don't you show me round town? We passed through it very briefly earlier and I'd like to see it in more detail."

"Sure," he replied, "I'll introduce you to Dorothy."

"Sounds great," Rebecca stood up and all of a sudden, the familiar blackness washed over her and she had to sit back down again.

"Are you all right?" Michaela asked hurrying forward.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Rebecca said, taking a deep breath. When she looked up, she saw everyone looking at her with concern including, to her irritation, Preston. "I'm fine, honestly," she laughed, "It's just been a long day with certain unwelcome surprises. I just stood up too quickly."

"That happened earlier at the farm," Matthew said.

"If you come to the clinic I can have a proper look at you," Michaela said.

"No, no, there's no need." Rebecca got to her feet. "See? No problem." The others didn't look convinced.

"Perhaps you should take Michaela up on her offer," Preston said.

Rebecca turned to face him, "Perhaps you should stay out of matters that don't concern you, Mr Lodge." With that, she took Matthew's arm and walked away from the table back towards town.

"You should listen to Doctor Mike," Matthew said, "she's a good doctor…"

"Matthew," Rebecca said, "please. Just show me round town." He nodded and started to talk about how Michaela had established the clinic. To her shame, Rebecca found herself tuning out. The attacks were coming more frequently now and, if she was being honest, she was starting to become very afraid.


	3. Chapter 3

_My dear Preston,_

_Concern has driven me to write yet another letter to you, seeing as you haven't seen fit to respond to any of my others. I confess to being somewhat perplexed and confused as to your lack of response. I am minded that perhaps you are not receiving my letters in that backwater of a town that you now apparently call home. I had indeed hoped that this infatuation with making a new life on the frontier was merely that, but your continued absence from Boston leads me to believe that it may be otherwise. Father spoke with your father only last week and relayed to me that you apparently have no intention of returning on a permanent basis. I want to assure you again that nothing has happened between myself and Charles O'Connor. I have made him no promises, but I now feel as though the promise I made to you carries no weight. You have disregarded my feelings and chosen a path which you know I would not follow. I am hurt by your lack of courage. If there is to be nothing further between us then I would appreciate having confirmation of this. I cannot wait forever, Preston, nor do I believe you expect me to._

_Please write back to me by return. I fear that we must resolve this situation as soon as possible. Regardless, I do hope that Colorado Springs is everything you wished it to be and that I see you back in Boston for Christmas._

_Yours_

_Helen._

Preston read the letter over three times before crumpling it up and tossing it across the bank where it landed on the floor near the door. She had a way of writing that inspired within him enough guilt to render him melancholic. He had never intended to hurt her, but a life married to her, living in Boston and working for his father had seemed so stifling. He could picture her face when he told her he was leaving, hear their last conversation…

_"When you first spoke of this, I thought it was merely a joke."_

_"What would make you think that?"_

_"Leaving Boston? Travelling across country to some God-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere? Preston, you must see how ridiculous this all sounds!"_

_"I don't think it's ridiculous at all Helen."_

_"You would leave all this? Leave me?"_

_"Is that a polite way of saying that you won't come with me?"_

_"Are you asking me to?"_

_"If I did, would you come?"_

_"No."_

_"Then there seems little point in asking."_

It had been widely assumed that Preston A. Lodge III would marry Helen Draper. Both families had been pushing for it for years. It had seemed to Preston good fortune that he found the woman he was being shamelessly pushed towards so attractive. Honey blonde hair, large blue eyes, a willing mouth and with considerable money behind her. It had seemed too good to be true. In time, he had learned that it indeed was. Helen was a typical Boston woman. Raised properly, educated to an acceptable level, popular in society, in attendance at every important event…she would have made a good wife…a good hostess…

 _"What more can you possibly want?"_ his father had raged when Preston had told him that his move to Colorado Springs would be permanent and made without Helen by his side. _"She'll stand by your side, support your business, bear you sons…she's perfect for you in every way!"_

 _"Except in that I don't want her,"_ he had replied, _"We would never be happy."_

 _"What's happiness got to do with it?"_ his father had replied, giving Preston an insight into his parents' marriage that he had never glimpsed before.

"Indeed," he said to himself now, "what's happiness got to do with it?"

"I suppose it depends to what you're referring." Preston's head snapped up to see Rebecca standing inside the doorway. She was dressed in her Sunday best, a dark blue dress and bonnet, her hair neatly caught back with only a few loose tendrils escaping. "I'm sorry to interrupt your reverie."

"Not at all," he said, getting to his feet, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you waiting."

"I was hoping to speak with you about the farm," she said, "I tried to catch you after the service but you left so quickly after Horace handed you that letter…"

"Yes, I…" he watched as she placed the crumpled piece of paper on his desk and waited for her to ask about it. She didn't. Instead, she merely continued to watch him impassively. "Please," he gestured, "sit down."

"Thank you. I must confess to being surprised to see you here. It was my understanding that the bank was closed on Sundays."

"It is," he said, "I mean…it should be…I…" his mind was still partly on Boston. "Sometimes, I come in here to think."

"Really?" He nodded. "Do you always think out loud?"

He laughed awkwardly, "Sometimes. You mentioned the farm?" Keen to divert the conversation, he latched on to her reason for visiting.

"Yes," Rebecca replied, "I've been thinking over the last week and I really would feel more comfortable if we had an agreement in writing."

"An agreement?"

"In relation to the two months grace you gave me on the farm. I think it would be wise to have everything on paper, don't you? So that there can be no misunderstandings."

She was looking at him intently now and Preston felt the heat of her gaze boring into him. "Of course, of course. I can draft something up for your approval."

"That would be very kind, Mr Lodge, thank you." She stood up and Preston couldn't help admiring her figure as she did so. "Perhaps we can discuss it some more tomorrow."

He stood up and faced her, "Yes, if you come back tomorrow morning, I should be in a position to have something for you then."

"I appreciate it, thank you." She turned to leave and then turned back. "Forgive me for asking, but are you all right? You seem a little…"

"What?" Caught off guard, he snapped the word at her.

"My apologies," she turned to leave again, "it's none of my business."

"No…uh…wait…" Preston called her back. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I was a little distracted when you came in…letters from home…it's nothing to be concerned about."

Rebecca nodded. "I see. Seeing as we're apologising, I should apologise for my outburst at the café last week when you suggested I consult Doctor Quinn after my dizzy turn. I'm…not particularly used to having people take an interest in my health and I'm sorry for being rude to you."

"That really _was_ none of my business," he replied. "but there was no intention on my part to offend."

"I appreciate that now," she replied. "Thank you for your concern."

"How _are_ you feeling now?"

"Much better," she replied quickly, "I think it was a combination of fatigue and anxiety about seeing the farm again."

"Speaking of the farm," Preston came around from his side of the desk, suddenly business-like again, "I'd like to see the progress you've made. I understand it's coming on in leaps and bounds."

"Well…"

"If you would permit me, I'd like to come out tomorrow. I could…bring the agreement and we could discuss matters properly."

"All right," Rebecca agreed. "I suppose it's only fair that the bank know the state of repair of its investment."

"Splendid," Preston accompanied her to the door, "shall we say around eleven?"

"That would be fine, thank you." He saw her glance at the letter. "I hope that it wasn't bad news." Without waiting any longer, she turned and left the bank, quickly disappearing around a corner out of sight.

With a sigh, he returned to his desk and lifted the letter. Smoothing out the paper, he read Helen's words for a fourth time before unlocking the top drawer and sliding it in along with all the others. For some inexplicable reason, he wasn't quite ready to let go.

XXXX

"Did you speak to Preston?" Michaela asked Rebecca as they ate lunch at the café.

The younger woman nodded. "He agreed that we should have something in writing. He's bringing it out to the farm tomorrow. I appreciate your input. I would never have thought about having a written agreement. It shows you how little I know about…well…anything!"

Michaela laughed, "I think you're doing marvellously well. Taking on the farm all by yourself…"

"I don't really have much choice," Rebecca replied, "If I don't, no-one else will."

"Matthew told me your mother died in childbirth." Rebecca nodded. "That must have been hard for your father. And for you, growing up."

"My father loved me very much. We were practically inseparable when I was little," Rebecca smiled, "but I think a small part of him blamed me for the fact that my mother wasn't there."

"It was hardly your fault."

"I know that, and I'm sure he did too, but…" she sighed, "perhaps it's only natural. Anyway, I wanted for very little. I didn't miss having a mother because I didn't know what it was like to have one."

"You could have ended up with one like mine," Michaela quipped which started them both laughing.

At that moment, Matthew appeared, "Rebecca? Do you need some help at the farm today?"

"Matthew, it's Sunday!" she exclaimed, "it's the Lord's day of rest! I'm sure that you've got better things to do than mend fence posts and paint doors. You've worked hard for me all week!"

"I don't mind helping you out."

"I know you don't, and I appreciate it, but please…take a break."

"How about tomorrow?"

Rebecca glanced at Michaela who shrugged. "Tomorrow would be fine."

"All right," he turned to leave, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Both women watched him go, "I'm worried about him," Michaela said. "I don't quite know what to make of his behaviour since Ingrid died." She glanced at Rebecca, "He certainly seems to like helping you."

"Oh, Michaela, I hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of him," Rebecca looked at her in horror, "I would never…"

"Of course not!" Michaela assured her, "In fact, you appear to be occupying his mind quite effectively." She smiled knowingly, "I believe that crush he had on you all those years ago is resurfacing."

Rebecca smiled, "I don't think you have anything to worry about there."

"What makes you think I'd be worried about it?"

"Well…I am an older woman after all." They both started laughing again. "You know, you're very lucky Michaela."

"I am?"

"Of course. You have a thriving medical practice, a beautiful home, a very good looking husband…" they laughed again, "I only hope I can emulate you."

"Well, once you're finished with the farm, you'll have the equivalent of the first two," Michaela pointed out. "All you'll need is…"

"A good-looking husband. Where in Colorado Springs am I going to find one of those?"

Michaela smiled, "There are a few unattached men in town. Loren…"

"Too old."

"Jake. He _is_ mayor after all."

"Hmmm…

"Hank." Rebecca raised her eyebrows. "All right, not Hank. I know, if it all works out with the farm, you could marry Preston!"

Rebecca choked on the tea she had chosen that precise moment to drink and started coughing uncontrollably. "Preston?"

"He _does_ own the bank and he's planning to build a hotel in town. Of course there is the small matter of knocking down the Kissing Tree and generally irritating most people in town."

"Indeed," Rebecca said, "perhaps one thing at a time." She looked back down at the remains of her lunch. "Well, I'm completely full. I couldn't eat another bite."

"Why don't we walk it off?" Michaela suggested.

"That sounds like a great idea." Rebecca stood up and immediately knew it was happening again. Her chest grew tight, her breathing quickened, the world seemed to spin around her. This time, however, she wasn't quick enough to get herself under control and she collapsed in a heap next to the table.

XXXX

Preston locked the door to the bank and started walking round to Grace's café where he had left his surrey. There was a distinct chill in the air, but he hardly felt it. He was still thinking about Helen and about home. He knew he had made the right decision, on both counts, yet it still gnawed at him. Here he was, living in a picture-perfect frontier town with a successful business and grand plans and yet it still wasn't enough.

As he reached the café, he noticed a small group of people congregated around one of the tables. At first, he thought they were merely chatting, but as he got closer, he realised that Rebecca was being helped up from the ground by Robert E and Michaela.

"I'm all right, really I am," he heard her say as he drew closer.

"Rebecca, clearly you're not," Michaela replied, "That's the third time this has happened since you've been here. Please, you must let me examine you."

Preston could see the fear and uncertainty in Rebecca's eyes. He was about to offer words of encouragement when he remembered her previous response. Despite her apology, he didn't want to risk her wrath again.

"Reckon Dr Mike's right," Robert E was saying. "You should get yourself checked out."

"All right," Rebecca conceded, her tone weary, "all right."

"Robert E, can you help me get her to the clinic?" Michaela asked.

"I'm fine," Rebecca insisted, "I can walk there myself." But she didn't pull away when Robert E put his arm around her waist and the three of them began walking away.

"Did she collapse again?" Preston asked Jake who was standing nearby.

"Down like a stone," he replied, "You ask me, something's seriously wrong with that girl."


	4. Chapter 4

"This really isn't necessary," Rebecca protested as Robert E and Michaela helped her into the clinic. "Really, I'm fine."

"Help her up onto the bed," Michaela instructed Robert E who touched his cap politely once he had done so and quietly left. "I'm just going to take a listen to your heart, Rebecca. If you wouldn't mind unbuttoning your dress." She turned to lift her stethoscope from the table.

Rebecca made no move to do so, "Michaela, I don't need an examination."

"Well, I'm a doctor and I say you do. People just don't faint like that for no good reason."

"No…I mean I don't need an examination because…because I already know what's wrong with me."

Michaela looked at her in surprise, "You do?"

Rebecca sighed heavily. This was the last thing she wanted to have to do, explain her frailties. She had tried so hard to forget about it, to push it to the back of her mind and deal with the attacks as and when they came. She had never wanted other people to know. "I have a problem with my heart," she began. "The doctors in Boston think I've had it since birth."

"You've seen doctors in Boston?" Rebecca nodded, "What did they conclude?"

"They couldn't be entirely sure but they believe that my heart suffers from a weakness caused by a build up of some substance in my…I think they said…arteries. It means that the blood flow to my heart is restricted and…well…that can cause the fainting spells as well as pain and shortness of breath that I experience from time to time. Apparently, there's a great deal of research been done at the moment but…"

"But they could offer you no cure." Rebecca shook her head. "And they believe you've had this since birth?"

"They said I may have inherited it from my mother."

"Your mother had the same symptoms?"

"Well, of course I don't know personally, but my father said that she frequently suffered from fainting spells and shortness of breath. He believed that was what killed her in the end. Her heart wasn't strong enough to withstand the pregnancy and labour."

"Did they prescribe anything for you?" Michaela asked, sitting down at her desk.

"I take digitalis as and when it's required. I've taken it after each of my attacks this week."

"Do you usually have such frequent attacks?"

Rebecca looked down at the ground, "No. I thought it was maybe just the stress of coming back here and all the work with the farm…"

"Well that can't be helping," Michaela interrupted, "if stress and anxiety are things that can exacerbate the condition…"

"Everyone gets stressed and anxious from time to time," Rebecca said, "it's impossible to prevent it. I just have to learn to…to manage my condition and…take the proper precautions."

Michaela looked at her, "Such as?"

"As you say, trying to reduce my stress and anxiety would be a start. Once the farm is back on its feet, I'll be able to relax a little more. And as for the future…" she broke off, thinking about the promise she had made to herself and yet had been so quick to forget when she had returned to town, had allowed herself to imagine having a normal life. "I don't want to end up like my mother," she looked at her friend, "she was my age now when she died. I can't risk ever becoming pregnant which means…well…I really can't risk ever falling in love with anybody."

"Rebecca…"

"When we were talking at the café about which eligible young man I could marry in Colorado Springs? In that brief moment, I allowed myself to think it was possible. But now…"

"There's no reason why you couldn't have a normal, married life," Michaela said, "new treatments for conditions are being developed all the time. I can wire some doctor colleagues in Boston and find out about the new research you mentioned…"

"And in the meantime?" Rebecca looked at her, "I don't even know if I'll still be here in a year's time, Michaela. The next attack I have could kill me. What man would want to take that on?" She stood up and straightened her dress. "So you won't have to worry about Matthew. In fact, you won't have to worry about any of the men in this town." With that, she opened the door of the clinic and hurried out.

XXXX

The following morning, Rebecca slept late. She didn't intend to, but after her conversation with Michaela at the clinic she had felt physically and emotionally drained. Returning to the farm, she had intended to rest, but as she looked around the property slowly being brought back to life, anger had overtaken her and she had viciously began chopping wood for the fire. She didn't realise how much time had passed until the sky began to grow dark and she realised she was freezing. She had treated herself to a hot bath and then fallen into bed. Lying in the dark, she had listened to the beat of her heart and cursed it for letting her down so badly.

When she woke, it was after nine-thirty and, realising that Preston would be at the farm in under an hour and a half, leapt out of bed to make sure it looked as presentable as possible. She had swept and dusted the interior, rearranged the furniture at least three times, lit the fire and put some tea on to warm. Then she had wrapped her shawl around her and gone outside to ensure that everything looked as it should. The new fence at the corral looked perfect as did the exterior of the house which Matthew had painted. There was a new door on the barn which she had begun painting on Saturday but had given up due to the rain. It wasn't completely finished, but it was getting there.

At precisely eleven o'clock, just as she had finished putting some fresh flowers at the kitchen window, she heard the sound of hooves and looked out to see Preston riding up towards the house. Suddenly feeling very nervous, she took off her apron and opened the front door.

"Miss McKendrick," he greeted her, touching his hat.

"Mr Lodge," she replied, "exactly on time."

"I'm rather a stickler for punctuality, my own and others." He stepped forward to her, "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, wishing to gloss over the scene at the café.

"Apparently you took quite a tumble yesterday."

"Yes, but I'm fine now," she replied firmly.

Preston appeared to understand the meaning of her tone, "I'm glad. Well, I must say that the place is looking decidedly improved."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied with a smile.

"Much better than the last time I was here."

"The last time?"

"I rode up here a few months ago after the repayments stopped. The place was in a terrible state. But you appear to have rejuvenated it."

She wasn't entirely thrilled by the prospect that he had been prowling around the property, but she chose to ignore this and accept the compliment. "Thank you. It's not quite finished yet, but I still have seven weeks to go."

"Exactly," he agreed, smiling at her, "I have the agreement we discussed right here." He patted his pocket, "May I request a tour first?"

"Of course." Rebecca showed him around the outside of the farm, pointing out the various improvements that had been made. She took him into the corral and then into the barn. "Once the work has been done, I can concentrate on acquiring animals and re-establishing my father's business contacts."

"It will take some doing."

"I know that, but I'm not afraid of hard work."

He looked at her, "I can see that."

She met his gaze for a moment before looking away, "Would you like to see inside the house? I took the liberty of making some tea."

"That would be lovely, thank you." He followed her back inside the house. "What a charming entrance way," he observed. "Indeed, the whole place is charming." She led him into the kitchen where she busied herself making the tea. "It must bring back happy memories being back here."

"Of course," she replied.

"Do you regret staying away so long?"

Rebecca paused for a brief moment, guilt flooding through her again, "Yes. But at the time, I thought I was doing the right thing." She turned and passed him a cup.

"And now you think it was the wrong thing?"

"If I had been here, all this would never have happened. But then, I don't believe my education in Boston was wasted."

"Of course not," Preston replied, "Rather unusual though. A farmer's daughter from Colorado Springs attending school back east."

Rebecca bristled slightly at the implication that she wasn't good enough to have done so. "My mother was originally from Boston. She moved out here when she married my father. He said it was always her wish that I be educated there."

"Really? Your mother's family name?"

"Spencer."

"I know the Spencers'," Preston said, "Jewellery, isn't it?"

"Yes," Rebecca smiled, "my grandfather was one of the city's most influential jewellers."

"Barton Spencer."

"That's correct."

"He designed my mother's engagement ring."

"Really?"

Preston nodded, "It's a beautiful ring. Two cut diamonds in a truly unique setting." He looked at her, "I had no idea you were his granddaughter."

"You mean you find it hard to believe," she replied with a smile.

"Not at all," he assured her, "I had heard that Barton's daughter had left town. I just hadn't put two and two together. It must have been like a homecoming for you to return to Boston."

Rebecca's smile slipped at the memory. "Not really. My grandfather died shortly after my parents got married. His estate was shared between my mother and her sister. After my mother died, the money passed to my father and he used it to pay for my education. I was so excited at the prospect of seeing the city, of visiting museums and theatres. Unfortunately the reality was less exciting."

"How so?"

"People made fun of me because of my accent and my clothes. When they would talk about places they had been and things they had seen, my biggest contribution was a monthly trek to Soda Springs to the cattle auction." Preston laughed. "I felt so lonely and unhappy and I was going to come back home, but then I received a letter from my father telling me how proud he was, and how proud my mother would be, that I couldn't leave. So…I bought nice dresses, I took elocution lessons and slowly…I left Colorado Springs behind. Too far behind," she added.

"You did what you had to do to fit in. No-one could blame you for that."

"My father was dying and I didn't even bother to come home," she looked up at him, her eyes shining, "they can blame me for that. Anyway," she said, coughing to cover her embarrassment, "you said that you had brought the agreement."

"Yes, yes of course," Preston reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "I'm sure you'll be in agreement with its terms."

Rebecca took it from him, opened it and started reading. It all appeared to be in order, the time scale, the monthly repayments, the overall total figure…At this, she paused, "Are you sure this is right?"

Preston looked at her, "Am I sure what's right?"

"This overall total figure," she looked up at him, "it can't be right, surely."

"I've calculated what's due to the bank with the requisite interest," he explained, "I can assure you that it's accurate."

"Interest?" Rebecca looked at him.

"Yes." She felt her stomach drop. In all her own calculations she had managed to omit one thing. Interest. With it added on, it took the overall total repayment figure to much more than she had anticipated. "You do agree with the figure," Preston asked, "don't you?"

"Well it's…" she paused, "it's a little higher than I thought."

"You'll see that I've provided a breakdown of the figures on the back…"

"Yes I can see that."

"It really is the best offer I can give you."

"I'm sure it is." She stood up, "Well, I shall just have to wire the bank in Boston to send me more money."

"Miss McKendrick," Preston stood up also, "I can assure you…"

"You don't have to say any more Mr Lodge," she replied, "I understand that this is a business agreement which I will honour. Do you happen to have a pencil?" He produced one from his pocket and she signed the document quickly. "You'll have your money by the agreed date." She held the paper out to him.

Preston paused before taking it from her, "I admire you, Miss McKendrick, I really do."

"For what?"

"For taking on such a challenge, especially in light of your…other difficulties."

"I don't have…"

"But I would hate to see you make yourself unwell…out of guilt." He looked at her meaningfully.

Rebecca glared at him, "Why I have chosen to do this is none of your concern. My reasons are my own and I would thank you not to comment so freely on them. Perhaps it was wrong of me to divulge so much about my past to a man I barely know and one who could very well take all of this away form me! And I am not _unwell_ , as you put it."

Preston moved to the door, "My apologies once again Miss McKendrick if I have offended you. Perhaps it may be better for me to allow you to progress with your repairs to the farm without further involving myself unless and until it is required."

Rebecca felt instantly shamed by her overreaction. She was angry with herself, not with him. "It's not…I mean…I don't…"

"Good day, Miss McKendrick," Preston touched his hat and then swung himself onto his horse. "Thank you for the tea." With that, he turned and started making his way back towards town.

Rebecca sighed and leant her head against the doorframe. "You're very welcome."


	5. Chapter 5

"You gonna need any more paint?"

Rebecca looked up from her purse. "Why?"

"I'm just wonderin'," Loren replied, "Fact is, if you are, I'm gonna have to send to Denver for more supplies. You've practically taken my whole supply doin' up the farm."

It was the following afternoon, almost three o'clock and the afternoon sun was glowing warmly outside. "No, I think I've got enough to finish," Rebecca replied. "It's amazing how much better a place looks even with just a new coat of paint." She handed him some money, "That should go some way towards my bill."

Loren took the notes from her, "Don't cover it all."

"I know that. But it helps, surely?"

"I s'pose," he replied.

"Loren, once the farm is back up and running…"

"I know, you'll pay it all off." He made a face at her. "Fact is, I'm gettin' too soft in my old age."

"Thanks Loren," Rebecca grinned at him, lifted the items she had purchased and made her way out of the store, bumping into someone as she did so. Her basket went flying and the apples she had purchased flew out. She crouched down on the ground to pick them up and as a couple rolled towards the steps of the store and were about to fall into the dirt, the person she had bumped into retrieved them for her. "Thank you," she said, straightening up and coming face to face with Preston. Guilt at the way she had spoken to him the previous morning hit her hard and she fought for words, "Oh…I…"

He didn't, however, give her much of an opportunity. "My apologies, Miss McKendrick. Good day." With that, he touched his hat and continued on his way to the bank.

"Damn it," Rebecca swore softly.

"You ok Rebecca?" She turned around to see Brian standing behind her.

She glanced back to see Preston going into the bank. "Sure, Brian, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Great. Actually, I was wonderin' if I could use you for my school paper."

"School paper?"

"Yeah. We're supposed to write an essay about someone we admire. I thought I could write bout you comin' back to fix up the farm. Bout how you've taken it on after your Pa died and all."

Rebecca was touched at the suggestion, "That's really sweet Brian, but…"

He looked a little downcast. "I mean, if you're too busy…"

"No, no," she replied hurriedly, "it's not that. It's just that I would have thought you'd want to do it about someone more like…well…like Doctor Mike. She must have done many more admirable things than I have."

Brian shook his head, "Nah, I've done her before. I wanna do it bout you. If you don't mind?"

Rebecca smiled, "Of course I don't mind. In fact, why don't you come out to the farm with me right now? You can get a first hand look at the progress."

"I wish I could, but I can't," he replied, "I gotta do chores for Ma this afternoon."

"Oh well, another time then."

"Why don't you come over to the homestead for supper?" he asked, "I could interview you then?"

"Well…don't you want to ask your Ma first?" In truth, Rebecca was slightly concerned about facing Michaela again after their discussion in the clinic on Sunday.

"She won't mind. You could come over about six?"

"All right," Rebecca relented, "I'll see you at six."

"Great!" Brian enthused, "See you tonight!"

Rebecca watched as he hurried over to the clinic, then, she headed back to where she had left her wagon to drop off her purchases before making her way down to the telegraph office. As she passed the bank, she glanced in the door, but there was no sign of Preston. At the station, Horace was busy dealing with an incoming train so she waited, sitting in the afternoon sunshine, warming her face until he was ready.

"What do you need, Rebecca?" He asked, coming over to her.

"I have a list here…" she said, reaching into her purse, "of business contacts my father had. I found it in his desk, one of the few things in the house that hadn't been ruined. I was hoping you could send these gentlemen telegrams and see if they'd be willing to continue doing business now that I'm in charge."

"You think they would?" Horace asked doubtfully.

"And why wouldn't they?" she demanded.

"Oh, no reason. I just thought that…"

"Because I'm a woman?" she glared at him. "You think I'm not as capable as my father?"

"Of course not! I…I didn't mean…"

"I know, I know," she replied with a sigh, "you're probably right, but…I need to try. I can't run a farm without any business. I also need to try and purchase some cattle. I've put down the name of the man my father used to buy from. Will you send the telegrams for me?"

"Sure, Rebecca." Horace took the list from her. "And I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything back." He turned and went back into the telegraph office.

"I reckon yer real brave." Rebecca turned to see Myra standing behind her.

"Oh Myra," Rebecca said, "I didn't see you there. I was just being insufferably hostile towards your poor husband!"

"Takin' on the farm by yerself and all," Myra continued as if she hadn't heard. "I could never do anythin' like that."

"Course you could," Rebecca replied, "if you want something badly enough you can make it happen." She reached down and tickled Samantha who was lying in the pram. The little girl giggled happily and Rebecca couldn't help feeling a stab in her heart knowing that motherhood was something she would never experience for herself.

"Preston's offered me a job at the bank," Myra continued. "I ain't never had a proper job. Unless you count workin' for Hank which I don't. And workin' here ain't the same as havin' my own job…"

"That's wonderful," Rebecca said, straightening up, "it's a great opportunity for you."

"I ain't sure I'm gonna take it."

"Why not?"

"Well…" she glanced at the hatch, but Horace was out of earshot, "Horace ain't too happy bout it. He don't like the thought of me workin' when I've got Samantha."

"There's no law that says a mother can't work," Rebecca replied.

"He said I could use the back room for a crib too. Preston that is. I could have Samantha with me and still do the job…"

"You don't have to convince me," Rebecca laughed, "sounds like you're trying to convince yourself."

"Would you take it? If he offered it to you?"

"Me? Working in a bank?" Rebecca shook her head, "I wouldn't have a clue where to start. I can barely handle my own money let alone anyone else's. Besides…" She looked away.

"Besides what?" Myra asked.

"Well…Mr Lodge and I sort of got off on the wrong foot."

"Bout what?"

"Let's just say that he has his business and I have mine and leave it at that," Rebecca said, "Anyway, I guess I should get back up to the farm before it gets dark. You'd better take that job, you hear me?" Myra nodded. Rebecca turned to walk back towards her wagon when she was approached by a petite young woman who appeared to have just alighted from the train.

"Excuse me," the woman said, "I was hoping you might be able to help me."

"If I can," Rebecca replied.

"I'm looking for Preston Lodge."

"Oh, well, you'll find him over at the bank just further up the street there," Rebecca pointed. "Did you just come in on the train?"

The woman nodded, "All the way from Boston. Lord, what a trip!"

"I lived in Boston myself for quite some time," Rebecca said, holding out her hand, "Rebecca McKendrick."

The woman shook it gently, "Helen Draper."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." The woman looked around, "would you happen to know if there is a hotel in town?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not, not yet. Mr Lodge is planning to build one, so I understand."

"Really?" Helen looked at her in surprise.

"Oh, it's nowhere near ready," Rebecca said, "Still at the planning stage I believe. But there is a very comfortable boarding house not far from the bank."

"Would you mind showing me?"

Rebecca would have preferred to get back to the farm, but good manners prevented her from saying so. "Of course not. It's just up here. Don't worry," she said as Helen cast a doubtful look at her bags, "They will be fine here for now." She led Helen out of the station and they began walking slowly up the street.

"Your town is very…quaint," Helen said, glancing around as she walked, "I wasn't quite sure what I imagined it to be like."

"It's very different from Boston," Rebecca agreed, "but it's home."

"You live here?"

"Yes, I own a farm on the outskirts of town."

"A farm?" Helen looked at her.

"It was my father's," Rebecca explained. "After he died it was left to me. I recently returned from Boston to manage it."

"I can't imagine living here," Helen said, "I can't imagine Preston living here either."

"Do you know Mr Lodge well?"

"I should hope so," Helen laughed, "I'm his fiancée."

"Really?" Rebecca looked at her sideways, "I wasn't aware…"

"Well, why should you be?" Helen replied, "Why should anyone?" Her expression was angry, but in a few seconds it had cleared and she smiled. Rebecca recognised the change. It was something all well-bred young ladies were taught and one thing she had picked up in Boston: a lady should never show displeasure. It was not a rule Rebecca adhered to.

"Well, here we are," Rebecca pointed at the bank, "Mr Lodge should be about ready to close up for the day so you've picked the perfect time."

"Thank you," Helen replied, examining the building with a critical eye.

"And the boarding house is right over there," Rebecca pointed again. "It's basic, but more than adequate."

"I shan't be staying long," Helen said, a determined look in her eye, "So it will do fine. Thank you," she smiled graciously again, "I appreciate your help."

"You're welcome."

"I do hope to see you again. It's nice to know that not all of my preconceptions about this town were correct."

"I'm sure you shall," Rebecca replied, not wanting to enquire as to what those preconceptions might have been, and then watched as Helen made her way to the door of the bank. Turning, she began walking back towards her wagon thinking to herself that wonders would never cease.

XXXX

Preston had just finished putting the day's takings into the safe when he heard a cough behind him and, turning, saw to his utter disbelief that Helen was standing in the doorway of his bank.

"Don't look so agog," she said tartly.

"Helen…I…" he was lost for words, "What…what…?"

"Am I doing here? Well," Helen stepped inside and closed the door behind her, "Seeing as you refuse to answer my letters, I felt I should come here in person and see what you had to say for yourself."

"Say for myself?"

"Preston, when you left Boston, I believed you had every intention of returning. That this idea of yours was mere fantasy. Now I hear that not only have you opened a bank but you're also planning to open a hotel?"

"Who told you that?"

"Some woman I met at the train station and who kindly directed me here. Rebecca…something…" Helen waved her hand dismissively.

Preston latched onto this. "Rebecca McKendrick?"

"The point is…" Helen glared at him, "I wasn't told of these plans by you! I wasn't told that your aim was to stay here permanently! Preston…" she stepped forward, "I thought you cared about me."

Preston looked into her large blue eyes and sighed. She was beautiful, so very beautiful. Any man would be proud to have her by his side. But even now, looking at her, he could see there was nothing beyond that. No depth. No soul. No passion… "I never meant to hurt you…" he began.

"Of course you didn't," Helen replied, "the great Preston A. Lodge III would never _intentionally_ hurt anyone, would he?" She glared at him again, "People are talking about me, you know."

"What people?"

"People! People that matter! They're all saying that you have dropped me for a life on the frontier. I will not be made a fool of, Preston. I will not have influential people in Bostonian society talking about me behind my back!"

"Well you don't seem too concerned, my dear, seeing as you appear to have struck up a very amiable relationship with Charles O'Connor!" Preston went for the jugular.

"I told you in my letter that there is nothing between Charles and myself except a platonic friendship. Not that I don't think for one minute that he wouldn't like more."

"Then perhaps you should give him more."

Helen reddened, "I beg your pardon?"

"Helen…" he softened his tone, "there's no future for us. My plans are here. You would never be happy in Colorado Springs, I know that. Perhaps we should release each other from any obligations we fear we may be under and move on."

Helen's eyes narrowed, "There's someone else, isn't there?"

Preston sighed in frustration, "there's no-one else."

"You've got some country girl on the side, haven't you?" She was trembling now with anger, "You've been stringing me along the whole time…making me think that you would come home when all along…"

"There is no-one else!" he thundered at her, "Although by God I'm now wishing that there was! Anything to get me out of this…this _disaster_ in the making! We would never have been happy Helen, you must see that!"

"That doesn't matter, Preston. Two people joined in marriage can work at being happy."

Preston looked at her in disbelief. She really would rather marry for position and public appearance than for important things like happiness and love. He knew then he had made the right decision. "I'm sorry Helen. But there can never be anything more between us."

"You can stop loving me? Just like that?" She looked searchingly at him.

"Yes," he replied quietly, "I did a long time ago."

For a moment, they stood looking at each other, knowing it was the end. "Well…"Helen said finally, "well…"

"Let me pay your fare back to Boston," Preston said, eager to make something up to her, knowing that he bore the greater blame.

"There's no need," Helen replied, "I purchased a return ticket. In fact, I purchased two hoping that I could convince you to come back with me." She coughed. "The next train back isn't until Wednesday. That…Rebecca woman was kind enough to indicate that there is a boarding house in town. I can stay there for two nights and return to the city on Wednesday."

"Allow me to bring your bags up from the station," he offered, "it is the least I can do if nothing else."

Helen looked at him and he saw the tears in her eyes, "Yes, Preston. It is the least you can do." With that, she swept out of the bank and he watched as she made her way over to the boarding house, her back perfectly straight and proud, although he knew she had never had to rent a room in her life before. As he stepped out onto the bank's stoop, he saw Rebecca approaching in her wagon. He saw her glance from him to Helen and back again.

"Congratulations," she said as she drew closer to him.

"On what?" he replied, confused.

"Your engagement. Miss Draper told me…"

"Yes well…" he cut her off, "perhaps you should stay out of my business, Miss McKendrick, as I have been requested to stay out of yours."

Rebecca's smile dropped and her face hardened. "Yes Mr Lodge, perhaps I should." With that, she slapped the reins and moved quickly past him.


	6. Chapter 6

At six o'clock on the dot, Rebecca rode her horse up towards Michaela and Sully's homestead and pulled to a halt at the front door. As she did so, it opened and Brian appeared.

"Hi Rebecca!" he called as she dismounted.

"Evening Brian," she replied, tying her horse onto the fencepost. "Your Ma said it was ok for me to be here?"

"Sure," he replied.

"Well, why don't you give her this? I made it this afternoon." She handed him a pie, one of the first she had attempted to make at the farm since she had managed to get the kitchen into some form of working order again. "I hope it tastes all right." Brian hurried inside but Rebecca turned on the steps to look out across the countryside. The sun was just going down, casting a rosy glow over the scene.

"Rebecca?" She turned to see Michaela in the doorway.

"Oh, Michaela. Sorry," she replied. "I was just admiring your view."

"It's equally beautiful from the farm," Michaela observed.

"Thank you. And thank you for allowing me to come for dinner. I did wonder when Brian asked me…"

"Brian has a habit of doing that," Michaela laughed, "but it's no trouble. How are you feeling?" she ventured slowly.

"I'm fine," Rebecca replied, eager to get this part of the conversation over and done with. "I'm sorry I was abrupt in the clinic, but my health…well…it's not really something I like to talk about. I've dealt with it myself for years and I suppose…" she sighed, "well, I suppose I'm not used to other people caring."

"I understand," Michaela said, "but I'm always here if you want to talk."

"Thank you."

"Come inside, it's getting chilly."

Rebecca followed her into the warmth and looked around in amazement, "What a beautiful home!" she exclaimed, "I can't believe Sully built this all by himself!"

"He is rather talented in that department," Michaela conceded. "He should be back from the reservation soon, so you can compliment him yourself."

"I will," Rebecca replied as Colleen came down the stairs to greet her. "Something smells wonderful."

"I made roast chicken," Colleen explained.

"Colleen's the chef in our family," Michaela explained.

"But you're gettin' better all the time," Colleen encouraged her.

"I can't cook either," Rebecca admitted, "You might want to test that pie before serving it up."

"I'm sure it'll be lovely." At that moment, the door opened and Sully appeared. "Sully!" Michaela hurried over to greet him and Rebecca watched with a slight stab of envy as he kissed her gently.

"Evenin' all," he said when they broke apart, "Rebecca."

"Hi Sully," she greeted him, "I was just saying to Michaela how talented you are for building the homestead. It really is beautiful."

"Thanks," he replied, "how's things up at the farm?"

"Fine," she replied, "I'm almost finished the painting and the other exterior work. I couldn't have done it without Matthew though," she conceded, "he's been really wonderful."

"I'm sorry I ain't been able to help you out more," Sully said, "but with the reservation…"

"I wasn't expecting it, Sully, don't apologise," Rebecca reassured him. "If anything, I've wanted to do most of it on my own to prove that I can." They took their seats at the table as Michaela began to serve the chicken. "The last thing I want is to have to hand everything over to Mr Lodge at the end of next month."

"Michaela said you got an agreement with him in writin'?"

Rebecca nodded, "Two months for me to repay everything. He came by with it yesterday for me to sign…"

"Something wrong?" Michaela asked, seeing her look slightly downcast.

"I had forgotten to add on the interest payments," Rebecca replied, "it takes the overall amount to much more than I had originally thought."

"So, if you don't pay next month," Brian said, "you gotta give Mr Lodge the farm?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But you'll have the money, won't ya?"

"I hope so. I've wired the bank in Boston to send me more of my savings, but it's all about re-establishing the business contacts that Henry let go," Rebecca passed the potatoes to Sully. "I just hope I can do it all in time."

"You trust Preston to stick to his side of the bargain?" Sully asked.

Rebecca looked at him, "Well…we have an agreement in writing…"

"That don't mean nothin'. Not as far as Preston's concerned."

"Sully…" Michaela said warningly.

"No, it's all right Michaela," Rebecca said, "I'd appreciate your thoughts, Sully."

"I just figure that if Preston can see a way to pulling the farm out from under your feet, he will. He's ruthless, and he doesn't care how he goes about getting what he wants. Plenty of folks in this town bearing a grudge already."

"I know," Rebecca said, "Michaela told me about the Kissing Tree."

"It ain't just the tree."

"Sully, I don't think we should be worrying Rebecca," Michaela said, "besides, I have every confidence that the farm is going to be back up and running the way it used to be in no time."

Rebecca smiled, "Thank you," but inside, she couldn't help beginning to feel worried. She had always assumed that when it came to business, Preston would be honourable. Now, she was concerned that he may renege on the bargain. "I met his fiancée today."

"Whose fiancée?" Michaela asked.

"Mr Lodge's."

Michaela and Sully exchanged looks. "Preston's got a fiancée?" the latter asked.

Rebecca nodded. "Her name's Helen Draper. She came off the train from Boston this afternoon. Although I have to say, he didn't look too happy when I attempted to congratulate him."

"Oh well," Michaela said with a smile, "We'll have to take him off the list then."

"What list?" Brian asked.

"Nothing you need worry about, Brian," Rebecca said, "I can't wait to hear what questions you have for me."

After dinner, Colleen and Michaela washed up while Brian asked Rebecca his questions for the paper. She answered them as best she could, joining in with his enthusiasm, but talking about the farm made her feel quite suddenly downcast about the whole thing.

"Do you miss your Pa?" Brian asked quite suddenly.

Rebecca was taken momentarily aback, "Well…yes I do…"

"It must be strange at the farm without him."

"I suppose it is," she replied, "although it had been some time since I had been back there when he was alive…"she trailed off, her mind casting back to the last time.

_"Yer goin' back to Boston then?"_

_"Pa, you're the one who sent me there in the first place."_

_"I know, and I'm proud, but…"_

_"But what?"_

_"I miss havin' ya here Becky. Place ain't the same now you and yer Ma have both gone…"_

"Rebecca?" She looked up to see Michaela watching her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she replied, "yes I'm fine. I'm sorry, I was miles away. Do you have any other questions, Brian?"

"No," he replied, "I reckon that'll do."

"Well if you think of any more, be sure and let me know." Rebecca stood up. "Michaela, Sully, thank you for your hospitality, but I should be getting back to the farm before it gets too late."

"Of course," Michaela said, "thank you for coming. And thank you for the pie. It was delicious."

"You won't be saying that when you're sick tomorrow," Rebecca quipped.

"You want me to ride back with you?" Sully offered.

"No, Sully, thank you. That's very thoughtful, but I'll manage." She glanced around the homestead again, "It really is a beautiful home." With that, she kissed both Michaela and Sully on the cheeks and then stepped out into the chilly night air.

"Nights are drawin' in," Sully observed. "Winter's comin'."

"And with it my deadline," Rebecca said, climbing onto her horse.

"You'll make it," Michaela said supportively.

"I hope so," Rebecca replied, "Good night." She turned her horse and started trotting away from the homestead to take the road back to the farm. It was dark, but the moon was full and it lit her path quite adequately. As she rode, she thought about what Sully had said. Perhaps she should pay Preston something now, to make sure he knew that she was going to make good on her word.

The wind was picking up and growing colder. Rebecca pulled her shawl tighter around her body but as she urged the horse on, she felt the familiar tightening in her chest and the landscape in front of her started to blur.

"No," she whispered to herself, "not here…" She urged the horse on faster into a canter, but as she did so, she felt her head began to swim and her chest constrict even more. She could barely see straight in front of her and she blindly directed the horse back along the trail she thought she knew so well. She knew there was a bend coming up ahead, but it didn't take long to realise that she was taking it too fast. Spooked by the tree branches waving wildly on either side of them, the horse skidded to a halt.

"Come on boy," she urged him, "come on…" the pain in her chest was now almost unbearable and he refused to move forward. Rebecca slid down from the saddle and looped his reins over his head, determined to lead him back home. He still refused to budge, no matter how hard she pulled him. "Come on!" she started screaming at him, with what little breath she felt she had left. "Come on, move!" He reared up in front of her, scared by the darkness and the trees. Then, a tremendous wave of pain hit her and she dropped the reins. The horse immediately bolted back in the direction they had come. "No!" she called after him, "wait…!" Then the world spun around her and she collapsed onto the ground.

XXXX

Preston found himself unable to sleep. It was the reunion with Helen that had done it. Just when he thought he was settling into town, she had to turn up and throw everything into chaos. He had lain looking at the ceiling of the room above the bank for as long as he could bear it before deciding that a short ride out in the cold night air might tempt him into a sleep. Pulling on trousers, a shirt and a jacket, he let himself out of the bank and around to the livery where he boarded his horse, Thunder. He had come with that name and though he desperately wished to change it, Preston found that he couldn't really think of anything better.

Trotting slowly, he and Thunder headed into the outskirts of town. The wind was brisk, but he didn't feel that cold. As he rode, he thought again about Helen. He had never expected her to appear in Colorado Springs. Perhaps if he had answered her letters the meeting could have been avoided. But, he realised now that he had taken the coward's way out and was paying the consequences. No doubt she would delight in telling everyone in town what he had done. Then again, he thought, she was so concerned about what other people thought that maybe she wouldn't want them to know.

He was deep in thought as he rode along the trail that at first, he didn't hear the sound of hooves coming rapidly towards him. All of a sudden, a horse appeared out of nowhere. It galloped wildly past him, causing him to pull Thunder up sharply. Turning in his saddle, he watched as the horse vanished into the darkness then he pressed onwards, wondering where it had come from. As he rounded the bend, he saw something lying on the trail. From a distance, it looked like a pile of clothes, but as he drew nearer, he saw that it was a person. Jumping down and looping Thunder's reins around a nearby tree, Preston hurried over, half expecting to find someone dead. He was shocked to see that it was Rebecca.

"Miss McKendrick!" he exclaimed, crouching down beside her, "Miss McKendrick…Rebecca? Rebecca, can you hear me?"

With a seemingly supreme effort, Rebecca's eyes started to open. He watched as she struggled to focus. "Mr Lodge…" her voice came out strained and raspy.

"Don't…don't try to talk," he interrupted her quickly. "Are you hurt? Can you stand?"

"I…I don't…"

"Can you sit up at least?" Putting one hand under her back, he gently helped her into a seated position. "Did you fall off your horse?"

"No, I…" she lifted her hand to her head, "My…my head…"

Preston looked and saw that she had a large gash above her left eye. "You're bleeding," he said, "You must have hit your head when you fell." He looked around for inspiration. "I should take you to Michaela's."

"No," Rebecca said hurriedly, "No, I don't need that."

"You're hurt. You need medical attention."

"I don't need medical attention. I just need to get back to the farm."

"Rebecca…" she looked at him, "Miss McKendrick…I urge you…"

"Please…just help me up." Gently, he helped her get to her feet. "My horse…"

"He's long gone, I'm afraid," Preston replied, "I can take you back to the farm, if that's what you really want."

"It's not far," she replied, "I can walk."

"Absolutely not!" Preston exclaimed, "You've just fallen from your horse! I'm not having you walking all that way with a head injury!"

Despite the aching in her body and the throbbing in her head, Rebecca found herself forced to smile. "I promise not to hold it against you if I don't make it there."

"You can ride with me," he said decisively. "Wait there." She waited as he retrieved Thunder and brought him back onto the trail. "Do you think you can climb up?"

"Yes," Rebecca replied. Wobbling slightly on her feet, she took hold of Thunder's reins and attempted to lift her foot into the stirrup. She couldn't quite manage it however and, somewhat sheepishly, turned to where Preston was standing behind her. "I can't quite…"

"Ah, of course." He stepped forward and then stopped. "I…well I mean I…"

"It's all right," she said, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. Allowing him to grip her around the waist, she pulled herself onto Thunder's back and slid forward in the saddle so that Preston could ride behind her. He swung himself up and, slipping his arms around her waist, took the reins from her.

"Are you all right?" he asked and she jumped at how close to her ear his voice was.

"Yes," she replied shakily, "thank you, Mr Lodge. I…I appreciate it."

"Please," he said, again so close to her ear, "call me Preston."

"Preston."

"May I _now_ call you Rebecca?"

She felt herself relenting, despite the sensible part of her brain telling her not to. After all, what Sully had said over dinner was still in mind, despite the battering her head and body had just taken. But then, if he hadn't come along she may have been lying there all night. Not to mention the fact that it would be churlish, not to mention, rude to refuse his request now. What did it really matter if they were on first name terms? It wasn't as if it meant anything beyond a somewhat cordial acquaintance. "Yes," she said, "you may."


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they arrived back at the farm, Rebecca was feeling slightly better. The pain in her head was still commanding, but the tightness in her chest had eased and she no longer felt dizzy. She knew that if she could just get inside, take her medication and get to bed she would feel a lot better in the morning. It always worked that way. Preston had refrained from talking any more to her on the ride back, seemingly to instinctively understand that she needed the time to bring herself back under control. Indeed, the only knowledge she had that he was there was the occasional movement of his body against hers and his breath periodically landing on the back of her neck. Only when he pulled Thunder to a halt in the farmyard did he speak to her again.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied. He slid down and then reached up to help her. Once she was on the ground, she moved away from him. "Thank you again."

"I should see you inside."

"You don't have to, really."

"I'd feel better," he insisted. Relenting, Rebecca opened the front door and stepped inside. Preston followed her and closed the door behind him. "You should drink something," he said efficiently, "tea or…something…"

"I didn't realise you were a doctor."

"I'm sorry," he said, looking away, "I didn't mean…"

"No, I…" Rebecca realised that he had misread her meaning, "I was only joking. I appreciate your concern, but I'll honestly be fine."

Preston hovered at the door, seemingly unsure as to what to do next. "I really think I should get Michaela to come and check you over. Especially to take a look at your head."

She touched the wound self-consciously. "I don't need that, really I don't," she insisted. "I'm just going to go to bed and I'm sure I'll feel a lot better in the morning. Really," she emphasised, seeing as he still looked unsure. She wanted him away from her, away from her sickness, her frailty.

"Well…" he said, "if you're sure…"

"I am, thank you. Please, I've taken up enough of your time as it is."

"Well…" he seemed to be fighting for the right words, "I'll…well…good night Rebecca."

"Good night, Preston." She replied. She watched as he opened the door and stepped back out into the cool night air. Climbing back onto Thunder, he gave her a brief smile before turning and heading away from the property. Rebecca closed the door behind him and leant against it, letting out a long sigh. Then, she moved into the kitchen and lifted the vial of digitalis from the drawer. She took the requisite dosage and then began boiling water to make tea. As she waited, she moved into her bedroom, taking off her slightly damp dress and replacing it with a nightshirt. Brushing out her hair, she examined the cut on her forehead. The bleeding had eased, but it was a nasty gash. She would have to have Michaela take a look at it, for cosmetic reasons if no other.

The kettle whistled, indicating that the water was ready and she moved back into the kitchen to pour the tea. Then she sat at the table to drink it and thought back over the evening's events. She would never have thought that Preston would have been so concerned. But then, she said to herself, if she had come across _his_ prostrate body in the road human nature would have made her equally as concerned.

"He was only being gentlemanly," she said aloud to nobody in particular. After drinking the tea, she made her way back through to the bedroom, slipped under the covers and was asleep in seconds.

XXXX

The following morning, as Preston was preparing to open the bank, he caught sight of Michaela about to go into the clinic. Thinking about Rebecca, he hurried over. "Michaela!"

She turned, "Preston."

"I was hoping to catch you. I think you should ride out to Rebecca's farm this morning."

"Really?" Michaela asked, "Why's that?"

He found himself irked by her. "Because I found her unconscious in the road last night, that's why."

Michaela's eyes widened, "What?"

Preston nodded. "She didn't really say what happened, but she had a nasty gash to her forehead. Now, I'm no doctor, but I think it could use a stitch."

"She was at the homestead for dinner last night. It must have happened on the way home. Why didn't you come and get me?"

"Believe me, I tried," Preston replied, "She wouldn't let me. That woman is insufferably stubborn."

"Well," Michaela said, "it certainly takes someone equally as stubborn to see that." She unhooked her horse's reins from the fencepost. "I'll ride up there now."

"I'll come with you. Just give me a moment to get my horse."

"I really don't think that'll be necessary," Michaela said. "I can manage."

"I'm not suggesting for a minute that you can't. But I would like to see that Rebecca is all right."

Michaela sighed, "Well, I don't suppose I can really stop you." She waited while he retrieved Thunder and then they began making their way out of town towards the farm. "What exactly happened?"

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "Her horse came thundering past me and the next moment, I saw her lying there in the middle of the road."

"How long was she unconscious for?"

"I've no idea. Perhaps two or three minutes after I got there? Does it matter?" he looked over at her.

"It might well do. Head injuries can be serious." Michaela sighed heavily.

Preston looked at her curiously, "What's wrong with her?"

"Who?"

"Rebecca," he said, slightly impatiently. "Come on, Michaela, we've all seen it. Those fainting spells at the café, now what happened last night. There's something seriously wrong with her, isn't there?"

Michaela kept her gaze fixed ahead, "Even if I knew, Preston, I couldn't tell you."

"Even if you knew?" he echoed, "you mean you don't know what it is?" Michaela didn't reply. "If it's something serious…"

Michaela pulled her horse to a stop and faced him. "Preston, I'm a doctor. I can't divulge what patients tell me. If Rebecca wants you to know then she'll tell you herself."

He really had no answer for that, and had little alternative but to continue to follow her towards the farm. When they reached it, the blinds were still drawn and there was no sign of life. Michaela pulled her horse to a halt and slid down. Moving over to the door, she knocked and called out Rebecca's name. At first there was no reply, so she knocked and called out again.

"I hope she's all right," she said.

"I'll check at the back," Preston said. He made his way around the side of the farmhouse to the backyard. As he did so, he marvelled once again at the improvements Rebecca had made. The place did really look much better. She really was quite determined. He admired that in a woman, liked it even. He couldn't ever have imagined Helen toiling on a farm like this. As he made his way to the back door, he heard a noise behind him and turned to see Rebecca coming out of the barn and closing the door behind her. He immediately noticed that she was wearing only her nightshirt and dressing gown.

When she turned and saw him, her eyes widened in shock. "Preston!" She gasped, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her.

"Oh…uh…" Preston averted his gaze, "good morning Rebecca…I…"

"What are you doing here?"

"Well I…" he fought for words while trying to not look at her. "I ran into Michaela this morning and…"

"Michaela?" At that moment, Michaela appeared around the side of the house and stopped short when she saw them both.

"Ah, Michaela!" Preston exclaimed, "Well…I found her."

"So I see."

"What are you both doing here?" Rebecca asked.

"Preston told me what happened last night," Michaela said, "I wanted to come and take a look at your head."

Rebecca touched it gently, "It's really nothing, honestly."

"I'd still like to look at it anyway." They both looked at Preston.

"Oh, I'll wait out here," he said quickly.

Rebecca led Michaela into the farmhouse and through into the kitchen where she dutifully sat down and allowed her friend to examine her head. "What did Preston tell you?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"That he found you unconscious in the road."

Rebecca sighed, "I don't know what happened. One minute I was trying to get my horse to move and the next…" she winced.

"Sorry. Did you fall from your horse?" Rebecca didn't reply and Michaela paused to look at her. "Did you?"

"No."

"You had another attack?" Rebecca nodded wordlessly. "Rebecca I wish you would let me examine you."

"Michaela, we've been through this," Rebecca replied, "I already know what's wrong with me."

"Yes, but your condition might have changed since you last saw your doctor. If it has, perhaps the medication you're taking isn't enough. You might need more or less, or different medication. Rebecca…" Michaela sat down, "I know you think I'm interfering…"

"No I don't…"

"But I wouldn't be saying all this if I wasn't concerned about you."

Rebecca sighed heavily, "I suppose I thought that…if I ignored it, it would go away. I suppose I thought that by coming back here I had left it behind me in Boston." She looked up. "Does that sound crazy?"

"No," Michaela replied, "it sounds human." She finished treating Rebecca's head. "Why don't you come to the clinic tomorrow and I'll give you a full examination." Rebecca nodded. "And, if you give me your doctor's name in Boston I can wire him and tell him I've taken over your treatment."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," Rebecca replied, lifting a piece of paper from the table and hurriedly scribbling down her doctor's name.

Michaela pocketed it, "Tomorrow then."

Rebecca nodded, "Tomorrow."

"And no heavy work today. You need to recover."

Rebecca laughed, "Believe me Michaela, I wouldn't have been wandering about the farm in my nightshirt if I had been planning to do any heavy work. Or if I had been expecting Preston to appear out of nowhere."

Michaela smiled, "He did seem rather concerned about you."

To her surprise, Rebecca found herself blushing. "I'm sure he was only concerned in case I wasn't able to fulfil my side of the bargain."

"Perhaps."

"Michaela…"

"I didn't say anything."

"Anyway, he's getting married, remember? His fiancee's in town." Rebecca stood up and looked out of the window where Preston was standing next to his horse. "Besides, he has the power to take the farm away from me. I have to remember that. Not to mention the fact that…"

Michaela looked up from where she was packing up her bag, "What?"

Rebecca fought down the familiar feelings of sorrow and self-pity. "Nothing," she replied, "nothing at all."

XXXX

"So, you're here all the way from Boston," Jake sat down next to Helen at Grace's Café. She nodded. "What made you come all the way to Colorado Springs?"

"Well…" she paused, wondering exactly what to say. Did she want everyone to know what had happened between her and Preston? "I'm a friend of Mr Lodge."

"A friend?"

"That's correct."

"So you came out here for a visit?"

Helen focused on her breakfast, "Something like that."

"Well you know, if Mr Lodge is too busy, I'm always available to show you around town. I don't believe there's anyone better qualified than the town's mayor."

This piqued Helen's interest, "Mayor?" Jake nodded. "I had no idea."

"Yeah well, one day I'll actually get a sign made for me," Jake replied, glowering at Robert E as he replied. "Well you're probably the first friend of Preston's that I've met."

Helen looked at him out of the corner of her eye, "Do I detect a slight note of irritation?" Jake looked at her. "You and Preston aren't friends?"

Jake snorted. "No, we're not."

"Really?" Helen put her fork down and gave Jake her full attention. "Do explain."

"He came here so full of himself. Opening that bank, chopping down the Kissing Tree…"

"What's the Kissing Tree?"

"It was a large oak tree folks in town liked. He cut it down because it was standing where he wanted to build his homestead. Folks weren't too pleased."

"I see," Helen said, "so Preston isn't exactly the most popular person in town?"

"You could say that."

Helen smiled to herself. This was all good to know.


	8. Chapter 8

"Don't forget about tomorrow," Michaela reminded Rebecca as the younger woman showed her out of the farmhouse. Preston, who had been standing by the horses, looked up at their sudden appearance in the doorway. "I'll see you at eleven."

"I'll be there," Rebecca promised. Glancing up, she locked gazes with Preston and self-consciously pulled her dressing gown closer around her. "Thank you."

"I trust you're feeling better?" he enquired.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, "and thank you again for what you did last night. I do appreciate it."

"It was nothing," he replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. "Well, if you're ready to go back to town, Michaela, please allow me to accompany you."

"Why thank you Mr Lodge," Michaela replied, rolling her eyes at Rebecca as she spoke.

Preston touched his hat, "Rebecca."

"Preston." Then she stood and watched as the two of them rode away from the property. A laugh escaped from her lips at the absurdity of the whole situation. Closing the front door, she made her way back towards the kitchen, pausing momentarily at the mirror in the hallway and examining herself. She was pale and the angry red cut on her forehead stood out against her face. Her hair was in disarray. Putting it plainly, she looked an absolute fright. She wandered into the kitchen and then through the rest of the farmhouse, looking at each room in turn. Memories of her childhood swirled around her head, memories of her father…with tears pricking at her eyes, she went to the trunk at the bottom of her bed and lifted out the scrapbook that she had kept with her at every juncture of her life. There was her parents wedding photograph, both of them looking stoic and yet with whispers of smiles on their lips. She couldn't help but think how alike her mother she was. The same oval face, same long dark hair, same wide eyes, same sickness. Forcing herself not to dwell on it, she turned the pages, smiling at the scraps of paper, other photographs and trinkets. There were various photographs of her mother's family, a poem her grandmother had written, letters that her parents had written each other during the months they had courted. Each one was precious, a link to her past, a link to a family line that she could never continue.

Angrily, she slammed the scrapbook shut and threw it back into the trunk. Hot tears pricked her eyes. She had thought it would be enough to come back to Colorado Springs and work the farm, thought it would be enough to become friends again with all the people she had left behind so many years ago. But it wasn't. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Unable to face the thought of doing anything else, Rebecca climbed back into her bed and pulled the covers over her head. Anything to shut the world out, to stop it from turning for one day, to stop herself thinking about what she could never have. Even if she felt anything for Preston, _which she didn't,_ and even if he wasn't engaged _which he was,_ there could never be anything more than a cordial friendship. There could never be anything more with any man, and what man would accept that? What man would accept her?

XXXX

It was just after eleven on Wednesday morning when Rebecca rode into town heading for Michaela's clinic. Having spent the previous day wallowing in self-pity in her nightclothes, she had greeted Wednesday with renewed vigour. Feeling sorry for herself was not going to help her reach her goal of getting the farm back together again. Only hard work and determination would do that. Not to mention, she had been forced to admit to herself grudgingly, her taking better care of her health.

As she dismounted and tied her horse to the post, she caught sight of Helen Draper coming out of Loren's store. The other woman was dressed impeccably in a beautiful green dress that screamed of Boston. Rebecca couldn't help but find herself staring, thinking how out of place Helen looked and yet how beautiful. No wonder Preston was planning to marry her.

"It's Rebecca, isn't it?"

Rebecca found herself shaken from her daydream as Helen came towards her, "Oh…yes, yes it is. I'm sorry, I was miles away."

"I'm Helen. We met a few days ago?"

"Yes I remember," Rebecca replied, smiling, "how are you liking our town?"

"It's certainly grown on me since Monday. Indeed, I've decided to stay a little longer. I didn't realise how charming and friendly people were. I had a very nice conversation with Mayor Slicker yesterday."

"With Jake?"

The surprise must have shown on Rebecca's face. Helen smiled, "Yes, he was very informative about the town. Indeed, he gave me the grand tour."

"I would have thought that Preston would have wanted to do that." Helen merely smiled, "Are you planning to live here in town after you're married?"

"Between you and I…" Helen replied, "I'm hoping to be able to persuade him to return to Boston. But you know Preston…"

"Well if you do decide to settle here, I hope you're both very happy."

"I understand that you have come back to town to save your home." Rebecca frowned, trying to remember how much she had revealed to Helen. "Oh Mayor Slicker told me all about it," the other woman broke in, "I think it's very noble of you attempting to save the home you love."

"Thank you."

"I'll be sure to tell Preston to make sure he's fair with you. I know what men can be like when it comes to business."

Rebecca wasn't particularly enamoured with the idea of Preston discussing her business with Helen, but she merely smiled politely, "Thank you."

"Not at all."

"If you'll excuse me…" she gestured to the door of the clinic.

"Oh yes of course!" Helen exclaimed, "I'm sorry. Please don't let me keep you." With that, she turned and made her way back across to the boarding house.

Rebecca turned and rang the bell. A few seconds later, the door opened and Michaela appeared. "I'm here," the former said, "as instructed."

"Come in," Michaela replied, "I've received a wire from your doctor in Boston."

XXXX

Preston had been examining the shine on the windows of the bank when he had turned in time to see Rebecca pull up in front of the clinic. He had been about to go over and speak to her when he had also seen Helen emerge from the store and immediately begin a conversation with her. Instinctively, he had kept back, going into the bank and watching from the window until he saw Helen turn to walk away. He had no time to get to Rebecca however before she went into the clinic, so he turned his attentions to Helen who was walking purposefully across the road.

"Helen!" She turned as he came hurrying out of the bank and fixed him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm glad I caught you."

"Good morning, Preston," she said.

"How are you?"

"I'm very well, thank you. I was just saying to Rebecca how much I'm liking your town."

Preston frowned, "You are?"

She nodded, "In fact, I've decided to stay a little longer. Oh I know that I said I would be leaving on today's train but quite frankly, I've met so many nice people that I would like to get to know them a little better."

"Nice people?"

"Mayor Slicker for example. I had a very nice conversation with him yesterday morning over breakfast. I had hoped that you might have put in an appearance but you were clearly engaged elsewhere." There was no trace of malice in her tone which made Preston even more wary. "And then, he showed me around town."

"He did?"

"Yes. It's much nicer than I had thought it would be."

"Well I'm…I'm glad you think so."

"He also had some rather interesting anecdotes to share about you." She looked at him pointedly. "You're not exactly his favourite person in town."

"Nor is he mine," Preston replied quickly. "Do you have any idea how long you're intending to stay?"

Helen waved her hand, "I haven't decided."

"But you have told people that we're not…I mean that we aren't…" she looked at him in confusion. "You have said that…"

"Preston please try and finish a sentence."

"I mean, have you told people that we are no longer engaged?" he dropped his voice.

"No," she replied, "I haven't. I thought I could always leave that to you. Now, if you'll excuse me…" she made a show of checking the time on the bank clock. "I have to get ready for lunch."

"Lunch?"

"Yes, Preston. Lunch." With that, she moved past him back towards the boarding house.

XXXX

"So, if I increase my dosage of digitalis that will stop the attacks?" Rebecca looked at Michaela for confirmation.

"It's the first step that I'd like to take," Michaela replied.

"But Doctor Taylor didn't seem to think that there had been a serious deterioration in my condition?"

"No, but his telegram did indicate that he was concerned about the attacks you've been experiencing."

"But you've just said that if I increase my medication…"

"I said it was the first step."

Rebecca sighed heavily. "I suppose I was hoping for a magic cure."

Michaela smiled, "An increase should make you feel better. If that doesn't work…"

"What?"

"Then we may have to look at other options."

"Such as?"

"A different medication perhaps. You can get dressed now." Rebecca started re-buttoning her dress. "I'd like you to come back in a week. You've had three attacks in the last week. If you don't have any by this time next week, then we'll know it's working."

Rebecca nodded, "That sounds fair."

"I also want you to drink willowbark tea every day." Michaela handed her a pocketful of the leaves.

Rebecca looked at them suspiciously, "What is it?"

"It's an Indian remedy. It's proven to be very effective for making you feel better under stress. That can't be helping your condition."

Rebecca pocketed them, "Thank you." She reached into her purse and took out some money.

"Try and take things a little easier."

Rebecca laughed, "With all the work I still have to do?" Michaela gave her a reproachful look. "Yes Doctor Quinn, I'll try my best." She opened the door. "I need to go to the telegraph office and see if I've had any replies yet. Thank you again."

"You're welcome," Michaela replied.

Stepping out into the cool breeze, Rebecca let out a long, shaky breath. She had been worried that the examination would throw up something more serious. But if all it took was for her to take a little more digitalis, then that would hardly be a problem. Determinedly, she strode down to the telegraph office and waited in line while Horace dealt with some packages.

"Morning Horace," she greeted him when she reached the front, "I was hoping you might have received some responses to my telegrams."

"Morning Rebecca," he replied flatly, "here you go." He handed her three telegrams. "They came in last night."

Rebecca took them from him and read through them quickly. _I'm sorry to inform you…I wish I could help…I'm not looking for…_ Angrily, she crumpled them up in her hand, feeling all her renewed hope fly out of her body and into the wind. "You were right," she told Horace, "it's because I'm a woman."

"Ya don't know that," he replied unconvincingly.

She nodded her head, "Yes I do. I was a fool to think this would work." Stuffing the offending pieces of paper into her pocket, she marched away from the telegraph office, back up the hill to the clinic where she had left her horse. She didn't see anybody passing her or talking to her. All she could see was her own failure, that she had just under seven weeks to go and she was getting nowhere. That with every passing day it grew closer to the time when she would have to make payment and she was nowhere near having enough.

By the time she reached her horse, she knew she was going to break down. She had to get out of town as quickly as possible. She was about to mount when someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Leave me alone!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry."

Turning, she saw Matthew standing behind her. "Oh…Matthew, I'm sorry," she ducked her head so that he wouldn't see that she was upset, "I didn't realise it was you, I…" she cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, it's been a bit of a bad morning, that's all."

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." She gave him as bright a smile as she could.

"You sure? You look like you've been crying."

"Matthew, I'm fine. Honestly, I'm fine."

"But…"

"Please!" she snapped at him, "please, just leave me alone!" He stepped back from her, clearly hurt by her tone. "Matthew…" before she could apologise, he had turned away. Knowing that she had just yelled at one of the few people who actually cared about her, Rebecca didn't try to stop the tears. She leant her head against her horse's back and allowed them to fall, not caring who might see her.

"Rebecca?" She didn't reply and didn't lift her head this time either. If she didn't acknowledge them, they would go away. "Rebecca, are you all right?" A hand was placed on her arm but she still didn't move or respond. "Are you ill? Do you need me to get Michaela?" Perhaps it was the way he said _Michaela_ that made her realise who it was. She lifted her head and through her tear-stained vision saw Preston looking at her with concern. "Do you?" he asked her again. "Do you need Michaela?"

"No," she replied. She made no move to wipe away her tears, just letting them lie on her cheeks. Preston reached into his pocket and gingerly handed her his handkerchief. She looked at it for a few moments before accepting it from him and wiping her eyes.

"I came to enquire as to whether or not you were feeling better," he said cautiously, "and to tell you that your account was credited with money from Boston this morning."

"Thank you," she replied as evenly as she could, "on both counts. I'm correct in assuming, however, that my first repayment isn't due until the end of the month, aren't I?"

"Yes," he replied, "yes of course."

"Then I'd be obliged if the money could remain in my account for now. Until I have time to add to it."

"Of course." He paused. "Rebecca, despite what you might think…"

"What do I think?" she cut him off.

"I'm not wanting to take the farm away from you. I want you to make a success of it. Truly, I do."

"I appreciate that, Preston," she replied, wiping her eyes again, "but I'm afraid that ultimately, you may have little choice."

"I don't understand."

She looked at him again, "It doesn't matter." She passed him back his handkerchief. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."

"Let me buy you lunch," he said quickly.

"Lunch?" He nodded, "Really, there's no need."

"I know that," he replied, "but I'd like to."

Rebecca looked at him and felt her insides jump in a way that she had rarely experienced before. She wasn't supposed to feel anything…she shouldn't feel anything…Then a cold sensation flooded her as she remembered the two most important things: one, he was engaged and two, even if he wasn't, she could never… "Thank you for the offer," she replied, "but I'm afraid I have to get back to the farm." Before he could respond, she swung herself onto her horse.

"Rebecca…" he started, taking hold of her horse's bridle.

"Preston, whatever you're going to say, don't." She couldn't bear to hear it, whatever it was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of green and, looking up, saw Helen hovering at the door of the bank, watching them. "Your fiancee's waiting," she gestured with her head. As he turned to look, she clicked her horse forward, forcing him to let go, and set off at a fast pace out of town.


	9. Chapter 9

Preston didn't see Rebecca again for the next fortnight although it wasn't for want of trying on his part. He would scour the town for her most days at lunch or after the bank had closed. Every other day, he rode out to the farm to see if she was all right. She never answered the door to him. He didn't know if she was actually there or if she was just actively avoiding him. Whatever the reason, it was starting to grate on him and he was surprised by the strength of his feelings.

One person who was certainly _not_ actively avoiding him was Helen. Far from staying 'a little longer' she had now been in town for almost three weeks. And far from being the haughty outsider, she had somehow managed to ingratiate herself with the whole town. Jake seemed particularly enamoured although, to give him his due, he stopped short of completely fawning over her given that he still believed her to be engaged to him. Even Michaela, who upon meeting Helen had been drawn into a long conversation about Boston, appeared to be enthralled by her. Nothing had yet been said by either of them about their relationship. Reverend Johnston had, at one point, approached Preston and subtly tried to begin a conversation about potential venues for the wedding, but Preston had managed to put him off. Whenever someone congratulated him, he merely nodded and thanked them. Helen, he noticed, acted no differently.

It was Sunday and, by Preston's reckoning, Rebecca was due to pay the first of her two monthly instalments the following day. He wondered how she intended on doing it. Was he expected to go to the farm or would she be coming to the bank? He had enquired with Michaela as to how Rebecca was but from the rather vague response he had received, he believed that she too had had little contact with the other woman.

Preston didn't usually attend church if he could avoid it. Years of being forced to go by his parents in Boston and sit side by side with his brothers though one of Reverend Collins' mundane services had put him off for life. But, on occasion, he had been known to make the effort and since Helen had been in town, and since he knew that the after service gathering was one of the biggest hotbeds of gossip, he had taken to attending on the last few occasions.

As he neared the church that morning, the first thing he saw was Helen standing talking with Jake and Dorothy. She was laughing uproariously at something which the latter had just said and didn't see him at first. When she did, she waved gaily. "Good morning Preston!"

"Good morning Helen," he returned her greeting and touched his hat. He also saw Dorothy and Jake exchange looks as if they couldn't quite believe that this was how intended people greeted one another. "You're looking lovely this morning." He had to admit that despite everything, Helen was a beautiful woman. She was in black and white today, a no doubt exceedingly expensive creation from Boston. But she wore it well. "Dorothy. Jake."

Helen stepped forward and took his arm, propelling him away from the others. "Just in time," she whispered conspiringly.

"In time for what?" he replied.

"Saving me from another protracted discussion with Mayor Slicker."

"It was my impression that you had developed quite an affinity for Jake," Preston wriggled his arm away from her.

"Oh, come now Preston," she chided him, "he's an interesting man I grant you, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?"

"Isn't what obvious?"

"Well the fact that I…"

"Good morning Rebecca!" Preston whirled around before Helen had time to finish her sentence to see Michaela hurry over to where Rebecca had just pulled her wagon to a halt. He watched as the two women exchanged pleasantries before Sully appeared alongside and offered Rebecca his hand to descend. She accepted it and gently dropped onto the ground.

He couldn't help noticing how beautiful she looked. A deep blue gossamer dress and bonnet set off her dark hair and pale complexion. Even from the distance he could see that her eyes were bright and her smile wide. He watched as the three of them laughed about something before Matthew came over to join them. He saw Rebecca embrace Matthew and observed as she appeared to be apologising to him about something. From the way Matthew was smiling at her, Preston could tell that he had accepted it, whatever it was.

"Oh I see." He turned back around to see Helen watching him.

"See what?" he asked her.

Helen glanced at Rebecca. "It's all perfectly clear now, Preston." Before he could ask her what she meant, she lifted her skirts and made her way towards the church door. He turned back to Rebecca and saw that she too was making her way towards the church. He had no time to speak to her at that point, so he followed them into the church and slipped into an empty seat directly behind her. He waited until a break in her conversation with Matthew and then leant forward.

"I must say, Rebecca, you're looking very well this morning."

She jumped slightly and then turned in her seat to face him. He saw how blue her eyes looked against her face and for a moment, found himself unable to speak. "Good morning Preston." Her tone was even, relaxed, so different from the last time they had spoken.

"How are you feeling?" he asked when he had found his voice again.

"Much better thank you."

"That's good," he smiled at her.

"You'll have your money tomorrow," she said unprompted.

His smile slipped slightly, "I wasn't asking…"

"I know," she interrupted him. Then she turned back to face the front as Reverend Johnson took to the pulpit.

At the end of the service, Preston tried to get her attention again but she was engrossed in talking to Matthew and Michaela that it was almost impossible. As the crush of people moved out of the church, he waited at the bottom of the steps for her. When she came down towards him, he stepped forward.

"I was hoping that you might consent to have lunch with me this afternoon."

Rebecca looked momentarily taken aback. She stepped away from the others and he followed her. "It's a lovely suggestion Preston but…"

"You can't turn me down twice," he said, half jokingly.

Rebecca looked away, "It's not exactly proper. You have a fiancée…"

"No, I don't," he told her hurriedly, "Helen and I are no longer together." He saw her look of surprise. "It was over long before she came to town."

"Then why…?"

"I don't know," he pre-empted her. "Short of physically lifting her onto the train, I'm not sure how to get her back to Boston." Rebecca tried to stop the smile on her face but didn't succeed. "Despite that, I would be honoured if you would have lunch with me today."

"Hey Rebecca!" They both looked over at Matthew who was standing a few feet away, "You coming?"

"In a moment," she replied. Turning back to him, she shifted uncomfortably, "I'm sorry Preston but I already have plans for lunch today."

"Oh," he said, "oh, I see. Well, perhaps tomorrow then? After you come to the bank?"

She lifted her head and looked at him defiantly, "I'll be at the bank first thing tomorrow, Preston, as promised."

"I wasn't implying…"

"I think it would better if we kept our relationship strictly business, don't you? At least until…certain issues are resolved." He knew she was referring both to the farm and to Helen, but he took comfort that it didn't appear to be a complete rejection.

"Of course," he said, "as you see fit."

Rebecca nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow at ten."

He nodded, "Of course." Then he watched as she walked towards Matthew and took his arm. As he did so, he could see Helen watching him from a distance, a look of pure fury on her face.

XXXX

"You don't have to keep apologising," Matthew said as they sat at Grace's.

"Yes I do," Rebecca said, "I shouldn't have said what I did and…"

"You've said this four times already!"

She grinned, "I suppose I _am_ going on a bit. As long as you forgive me, I promise not to mention it again."

"I forgive you."

"I'm glad, thank you."

"But only on one condition."

Rebecca looked up from her soup, "What's that?"

"Rebecca!" Matthew was preventing from replying by Helen sweeping over to the table. "I'm so glad I caught you!"

"You are?" Rebecca said before she could stop herself.

"Absolutely!" Helen sat down opposite them both, "I was hoping that we could have a little talk this afternoon. Woman to woman."

Rebecca glanced at Matthew, "I suppose so. What kind of little talk?"

"Shall we meet at the church at three o'clock?" Helen continued, without answering Rebecca's question.

"Oh…uh…of course. That would be fine."

"Good. I'll see you there!" Helen rose and stalked away before Rebecca could ask her any more questions.

"What was that about?" Matthew asked once she was out of earshot.

"I have absolutely no idea," Rebecca replied, "Anyway, what was that condition you were going to impose on my forgiveness?"

All of a sudden, Matthew went red and looked away, "Well…I was hoping that…"

"Yes?"

"Well, there's a sweetheart dance next Saturday and I was hoping…well…hoping that you might agree to go with me?" He looked at her as if to say, 'there, I said it.'

Rebecca smiled indulgently. He really was sweet, she had to give him that, but she would be lying if she said that she felt anything straying remotely near love. "Matthew…"

"No, it's alright," he broke in, anticipating her answer, "It doesn't matter. It was just a thought…"

"I'd love to go with you," she said, "but, it would have to be strictly as friends." He looked away, "I'm sorry if I've given you the impression that…"

"No," he said, "no, you haven't."

"Sometimes having friends can be more important than…well…anything else," she continued, "and you've been such a good friend to me since I came back to town. Can we go as friends?"

"Sure," he nodded.

"Good," Rebecca said, "now, as a friend, what on earth do you think Helen wants to chat to me about?"

XXXX

At three o'clock, Rebecca made her way, slightly nervously, back over to the church. She and Matthew had talked endlessly about what the 'little chat' could be about and had reached no conclusions. As she drew nearer, she caught sight of Helen standing at the bottom of the steps.

"Helen?"

The other woman turned, "Ah, Rebecca. I'm glad you could join me."

"I must admit to being a little intrigued," Rebecca said, "why all the secrecy?"

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Helen looked up at the sky. Despite the fact that it was chilly, the sun was shining brightly and the sky was cloudless.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"You must have seen some beautiful days living here."

"I've seen some beautiful ones in Boston too."

Helen's head snapped down to look at her and Rebecca was surprised to see that her eyes were cold. "I wanted to do this in as dignified a way as possible," she said, "but quite frankly I'm not sure how."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I've seen the way he looks at you."

"The way who looks at me?" Rebecca asked, confused.

"I'm referring to Preston," Helen said impatiently, "my fiancé."

"But I thought that…"

"You thought what?" Helen snapped.

"Well, he told me that the two of you were…well…no longer together. I'm sorry if I misunderstood…"

"I don't care what he told you. I won't be made a fool of by a…a…country girl!"

If Rebecca had been intimidated before, she now felt her hackles rising at this. "I don't know why you feel you have to say this to me, but I will _not_ be spoken to like this!"

"Are you denying it?"

"Denying what?!"

"That he's in love with you!"

Rebecca took a step back, physically shocked by the other woman's words, "You're…you're mistaken," she said, "there is nothing between Preston and I…"

"Perhaps not on your side," Helen said, "and perhaps not yet. But there is for him. I've known him for years. I can tell. He used to look at me the way he looks at you. I saw it at the church this morning and that's when I knew. That's when I knew that it wasn't working. That I wasn't going to get him back." She stepped closer to Rebecca, "Do you know what it would mean to my family for me to marry Preston? It's an expected alliance! The Lodges' and the Drapers'. It's been planned for years!"

"Helen, I…"

"And I'm not going to let you take it away from me." Helen glared at her. "I still have a chance to persuade him to honour his commitment to me, but only if you're safely out of the way!"

"I've never given Preston the slightest indication that I feel anything for him!" Rebecca shot back, "If you've seen him displaying any sort of affection towards me it has been completely unprompted, I assure you!"

"But not exactly rebuffed." Helen looked at her superciliously, "I want you to tell him that you don't feel anything for him."

"Why should I?" Rebecca asked, "I've never encouraged him!"

"Then make sure that it never goes any further."

"Helen," Rebecca said slowly, "I am sorry that your relationship with Preston has broken down and I am sorry that you somehow feel that he has projected feelings onto me, but I have done nothing to warrant them and I am not about to start interfering!" She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Well," Helen said in the ensuing silence, "well then. I shall just have to deal with this myself!" With that, she swept away back across the bridge towards town.

Rebecca watched her go, her heart beating furiously in her chest. For a moment, she was convinced she was going to have another attack, but slowly, she brought herself under control. Helen was delusional. Preston didn't feel anything for her, it wasn't possible. He was the banker. The man who held the keys to her future in his hands. The man to whom she had to hand over a sizeable amount of money tomorrow. He had only asked her out for lunch because he wanted to enquire after her health. Slowly, she began to walk back to town.

And she didn't feel anything for him. Nothing. Nothing at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**October 1870**

As Rebecca approached the bank the following morning, Helen's words resounded in her ears. The other woman had clearly hoped that her prolonged visit to Colorado Springs would make Preston realise that he was still in love with her. Quite obviously that hadn't happened. She felt increasingly uncomfortable that Helen appeared to believe that she had something to do with the fact that the other woman was not destined to become Mrs Lodge. All of the previous afternoon she had thought back over every conversation she had ever had with Preston, trying to pinpoint if there was any hint of behaviour that would indicate that he felt anything for her. He had shown concern for her, certainly, but…that didn't mean that he was, as Helen insisted, in love with her.

She paused at the door of the bank, suddenly afraid of going inside. Was she encouraging him? Was she giving off a signal that she was interested in pursuing a relationship with him? The very thought made her shudder, not because she didn't find Preston attractive, indeed to her surprise she did, but because of everything else…

Taking a deep breath, she stepped in the door of the bank and paused as she saw that Preston was speaking to a man she didn't recognise. She waited, unsure whether she should turn around and come back in a few minutes. Before she had time to decide, however, he looked up and saw her.

"Rebecca!" he got to his feet and smiled at her, "Mr Dawson and I had just finished, hadn't we sir?" The other man mumbled his reply and quickly left the bank, brushing past her as he did so. "Please." He opened the half door for her and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "You look well."

"Thank you," she replied, self-consciously sitting down. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important."

"Not at all," he replied.

"Well, I've come to pay the first instalment as agreed," she reached into her purse and withdrew a wad of banknotes. "I believe that if this can be put with the money in my account, it should match the total figure." Preston took the money from her and she watched as he mentally added it up. "I managed to persuade some of my father's old contacts to do some business with me. I've been spending time the last few weeks in Denver and Soda Springs trying to build things back up. It's not been easy but…"

"But…" he paused, "if I take the money out of your account, you'll be left with nothing."

"I have a small amount still at the farm," Rebecca replied, feeling herself blush. "I won't be destitute if that's what you're worried about."

"No, but…" he stopped and then held the money back out to her. "Take it back."

"I'm sorry?" she replied, confused.

"Take it and keep it for now. You can pay me the entire amount at the end of this month."

"But I…we have an agreement in writing."

"I know and I'm fully aware that you intend to honour it but…" he sighed, "I don't want to take every penny you have right now."

"I told you…"

"Please."

Rebecca looked at the earnestness of his expression and her thoughts wandered back to Helen's comments… _he's in love with you…_

"Preston," she began slowly, "I'm not sure that your showing me such favour is a good idea." He frowned at her. "I mean, it may only increase the already false opinion some people have of our…relationship."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I mean that…" Rebecca struggled for words, "some people believe that…"

When she didn't continue, he cajoled her, "Some people believe what?"

"Lord, I didn't want to get into this!" She got to her feet and turned her back on him. "I had a very…enlightening conversation with Miss Draper yesterday." She turned back to face him, "She seems to be under the impression that…well that…"

"Yes?" he said, slightly impatiently.

"Well, that you have…feelings for me."

"Feelings?"

"That you're in love with me." The words were out before she realised and she instantly felt regret flood through her. She shouldn't have been so forward. "I'm sorry," she said hurriedly, "I shouldn't have…"

"What exactly did Helen say?" Preston cut her off.

"That she has observed certain…looks passing between us." Rebecca looked away, "And she regaled me with how your marriage has been expected for some time and is, indeed, somewhat of a foregone conclusion." Preston ran a hand over his eyes and sighed heavily. "From what you told me at the church yesterday though, I'm guessing that your feelings on the subject differ somewhat."

He looked up at her, "Yes they do. She's right," he gestured for her to sit back down and she obliged. "The marriage has been expected for some time. Our parents have always been close friends, though I knew Helen very little until a few years ago. Until we began being thrust together at every available opportunity. Initially it was thought that she might be a suitable match for my older brother James but then he met his wife and the idea was quickly disposed of."

"And you became a suitable alternative?"

He smiled at her, "Something like that. At first I was happy to go along with it. She was…is…a pleasant enough woman, but over time I began to see that there was nothing beyond the surface. Nothing that went any deeper than the next ball or supper party. I began to see that she wasn't someone I could truly love."

Rebecca felt herself growing uncomfortable, "You don't have to tell me…"

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting forward, "I have no wish to embarrass you."

"No, it's not that," she protested, "It's just…well…your relationship with Miss Draper is really none of my concern."

"I think it is if she is implying that you and I are more than mere business acquaintances."

Rebecca met his gaze and felt her breath catch quite suddenly in her throat. "Well," she said, "since you helped me after my accident a fortnight ago, I suppose I've viewed our relationship as being…well…more than that."

"You have?"

She nodded, "I suppose I consider you…a friend."

"A friend." He repeated her words.

"Yes."

He looked at her for a long moment without saying anything. "May I ask…" he stopped suddenly and she waited for him to continue, "may I ask whether or not there is anything more than friendship between yourself and Matthew Cooper?"

"Matthew?" Rebecca exclaimed, "Of course not!"

"There isn't?"

"No," she replied, "he's a good friend who's helped me so much with the farm but, I can assure you, there is nothing more to it than that. At least not on my side," she added, remembering the conversation she had had with him at Grace's.

"But you think there is on his side?" Rebecca lowered her eyes and didn't reply. "Of course you don't have to respond to that," he added quickly. "I'm sorry that Helen has seen fit to draw you into our problems."

"Not at all," Rebecca got to her feet, "but perhaps it might be wise of you to set her straight."

"Set her straight?"

"Well, perhaps you should reassure her that the demise of your relationship has nothing to do with any feelings that she mistakenly believes you have for me."

"Oh yes, yes," he said, "yes of course."

"And are you quite sure about postponing my payment until the end of the month?" She lifted the money from the table.

"Yes," he replied, "quite sure."

Rebecca held out her hand, "Thank you Preston." He took it in his own and she felt a surge go through her again. "Good day."

"Good day Rebecca," he replied, watching as she left the bank. As she stepped through the door, Horace appeared, and after touching his hat to her, entered the bank.

"Mornin' Preston," he greeted him.

"Horace," Preston replied, watching Rebecca's retreating figure. "What can I do for you today?"

"Got a telegram for you from Boston," he handed it over. "I hope it ain't bad news."

Preston took it from him and scanned it quickly.

_Preston. Alarming news has reached us. I insist that you return to Boston immediately. Father._

"Like I said," Horace said, "I hope it ain't bad news."

"Thank you Horace," Preston said, reading it over again. _Alarming news…_ what could that mean?

XXXX

After leaving the bank, Rebecca headed over to the store to pick up some supplies. Her head felt as though it were floating somewhere above her body. She wished she understood the feelings that Preston seemed to evoke within her, but she didn't. She had never looked at a man and felt the same surge go through her as she felt when she looked at him. It was as if her body was possessed by something, something fighting to be set free.

When she walked into the store, the first person she saw was Helen. The other woman was standing talking to Dorothy and at first, didn't notice Rebecca's arrival.

"Well I believe that we'll be returning to Boston soon," Helen was saying, "After all, there is much to organise." Rebecca began picking up her groceries, all the time listening in to the conversation. "I mean, you can't just decide to marry without some preparation can you?"

"I guess not," Dorothy replied, "Good morning Rebecca." Helen spun on her heel and regarded Rebecca with obvious disdain.

"Good morning Dorothy, Helen. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It is," Dorothy replied.

Having made the greeting, Rebecca turned back to selecting her purchases but became all too aware of someone standing close behind her. Turning her head slightly, she saw that it was Helen.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, as neutrally as possible.

"No," Helen replied, "I believe I have managed to rectify the situation myself."

"And what situation might that be?"

"You know full well," Helen hissed.

"I'm afraid I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Rebecca moved towards another shelf. Helen moved also, so that she was between Rebecca and the goods.

"You believe that you have beaten me, don't you?" she said. "You believe that he will honestly prefer you to me, well I'm afraid that you are mistaken."

"Helen," Rebecca began, trying to keep her temper, "I can assure you that there is nothing between Preston and myself. From what I've heard, any breakdown in your relationship appears to have taken place long before he ever met me."

Helen's face took on a look of shock, "Has he discussed this with you?"

Rebecca cursed herself for being so stupid, "Not exactly…"

"Well clearly he has if you think yourself qualified to offer an opinion." She drew herself up, "I've done exactly the right thing in doing what I have done."

"And what have you done?"

"I've told his father. Preston Senior will put a stop to this, believe me." She leant in close, "I shall be Mrs Lodge before the year is out and you can go back to being the impoverished farm girl that you are." With that, she swept out of the store, leaving Rebecca with her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

XXXX

It was later the following afternoon when Rebecca saw Preston again. She had gone down to the station to send some telegrams when she noticed him preparing to board the train. He didn't see her at first, so busy was he loading luggage into the storage compartment, but when he turned and saw her standing watching, he hurried up to her.

"Good afternoon Rebecca."

"Good afternoon," she returned the greeting, "Are you going somewhere?"

"Boston."

She felt her heart sink, "Boston?"

He nodded, "I've been summoned by my father." He handed her the telegram.

She scanned it quickly and then looked up, "I hope there's nothing wrong," she said, "no-one is ill are they?"

"No, not as far as I know," he replied, "I rather fear that it has more to do with Helen. I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't taken it upon herself to wire my father and tell him all sorts of fantastic stories about what is going on out here."

"You mean about what she perceives is happening between us?"

"Precisely."

"Oh…" Rebecca looked away, "Well, I'm sorry to be the cause of such embarrassment, especially when there is nothing going on. Perhaps though, by confronting the situation like this, it can be resolved."

"I hope so," he replied, "I also hope that when she returns to Boston, Helen remembers precisely why she loves the city so much and decides to remain there."

"Oh, is she accompanying you back?" Rebecca turned around and caught sight of Helen swiftly approaching.

"I'm afraid so."

"There you are Preston!" Helen exclaimed, "Hurry up, the train is about to leave!"

"Yes, yes," he replied impatiently.

"What do you think, Rebecca?" Helen said, "I've managed to persuade him to go back to the city with me. An impossible task you might have believed."

"Not at all," Rebecca forced a smile. "I hope you both have a pleasant journey."

"That's very kind of you, Rebecca, thank you," Helen gave her a false smile as the guard's whistle blew, "Preston…"

"I'll be there in a minute," he said. Scowling, she walked away towards the door.

"You won't know how long you'll be away then," Rebecca said, once Helen was out of earshot.

"A few weeks. Hopefully no longer," he replied, "the sooner I can get away, the better."

Rebecca smiled, "Perhaps you'll get home and realise that Boston is where you want to be after all."

He looked at her so intently that she felt herself redden again, "Believe me, I won't." The whistle blew again, "I must go." He paused, "Promise me that you'll take care of yourself while I'm gone."

"In what way do you think I wouldn't?" she asked, taken aback by his concern.

"Just don't…" he seemed to be unable to find the words he was looking for, "don't work too hard on the farm. It's not worth risking your health for. We can always work something out. Financially, I mean."

"You should go, or you'll miss the train," Rebecca said.

"Yes I should. Goodbye Rebecca."

"Goodbye Preston." She watched as he hurried to get on board and then stood as the train pulled out of the station, heading back towards Denver and then onto Boston. She waited until it was completely out of sight and then turned back towards town, surprised by just how empty she felt.


End file.
